"What are you playing?" Coco asks as she enters the sitting room, seeing me sitting at the piano.

"I was just choosing," I sigh, flipping through the tons of piano books that were left here. Whoever went to school here loved the piano.

"As long as I don't have to listen to Morning After," she rolls her eyes.

Everybody else mumbles in agreement, tired to death of that song; Ms. Venable only allows us to turn it off when I'm playing the piano.

I smirk as I land on "The Morning After" in the piano book. This will definitely get a rise out of Coco. 

After I play the first line, Coco slaps my shoulder. "You bitch," she scoffs. "Don't make me shut this fucking piano on your fingers."

I chuckle as I throw the piano book to the side. "Have I ever told you how pleasant you are to be around?" I ask sarcastically.

She's about to say something else snarky when she catches a glimpse of my wrist, which is still bruised from my incident with Michael yesterday.

"What the hell?" she whispers, sitting on the piano bench next to me. She grabs my wrist and scrutinizes the bruise before I can pull my hand away. She looks up at me disbelievingly. "Did fucking Langdon do this to you? I could see how angry he was when I left you in the library alone with him."

I scoff. "Coco, if I didn't know better, I would think that you actually care."

She ignores me. "Bitch, if he laid a hand on you, I will end him."

"Coco, it's really nothing," I shake my head. "Don't worry, he was left with far worse injuries."

She holds my wrist up. "This isn't nothing!" she whisper-shouts. "Shit, I knew I shouldn't have left you alone with him."

"Coco, I promise you, I've got it handled," I state as I pull my wrist away. We turn and see everyone in the sitting room sending us questioning glances, not having heard what we were talking about but knowing that it was intense.

Everyone's attention is brought to Ms. Venable as she enters the room. We silently stand and walk over to take our seats at the table. Coco settles in next to me and sends a concerned glance at my wrist, so I just hide it under the table.

All eyes land on Gallant as he enters the dining room late. He sits in his seat and looks down, remaining silent.

Coco stares at him skeptically for a few seconds before finally deciding to speak up.  "Gallant, I really need you to do my hair."

"Maybe you should've thought about that before starting a whole fight over dinner," Gallant grumbles.

"Oh, come on, I just said what we were all thinking!" Coco yells. She quickly realizes her mistake. "Shit, that just made things worse," she mutters.

"You're such a self-absorbed bitch!" Gallant yells. "The only time you treat people kindly is when you want something from them!"

"Let's not forget who gave you and your grandmother their tickets to this outpost," Coco remarks, taking a sip from her glass.

"Who else were those tickets going to go to? There was nobody else there!"

"My fucking boyfriend, you asshole," Coco says angrily. I recall her yelling about how her boyfriend was on his way while we were at the airport. "He died for you to be here."

"He wasn't going to make it to the fucking plane anyway!" Gallant's right; the Cooperative agents were saying that as they forced us into the plane.

"Those tickets were originally for my parents and brother. They died as well just for your ungrateful ass."

"They weren't using them!" he yells. "If we didn't take them, those tickets would've gone to waste."

"Technically, your grandmother's already did because you killed her."

"For the last time, I didn't kill her!" Gallant yells, jumping to his feet.

"We all can see right through your little act," Coco continues. "You barely even tried to hide your lack of grief towards her death."

"People grieve in different ways."

"Bitch please, you were more upset when we cut back to one meal a day than you were when you found out that bitch was dead."

He storms around the table and comes to stand in front of Coco.

"Oh, are you going to fight me?" she mocks. "I could beat your pathetic ass without trying."

He raises a hand and slaps her across the face. Gallant leans back against the table smugly as Coco stands up, enraged. "You bitch!" Coco yells as she takes her fork and shoves it into Gallant's hand.

Gallant shrieks as he recoils in pain. Before anything else can happen, Ms. Mead and the Fist break up the fight. "What should we do with them?" Mead asks Venable as she takes Gallant.

Venable looks at each of them, pondering their punishment. "Perhaps we should lock them in the decontamination room together until they either make up or kill each other," she suggests, an amused look on her face.

"Bitch, we all know I'd kill Gallant easily!" Coco spits.

I chuckle. "I believe Coco on that one."

Timothy and Emily nod in agreement as Andre shrugs distastefully from his seat. "My bets are on Coco as well."

"Andre, we cannot be making bets on which one of our fellow outpost residents is going to kill the other," Dinah scolds. "But for the record, I'm betting on Coco."

"Hey!" Gallant protests.

I hear the clicking of Michael's heels on the floor, and I turn to see him entering the dining room. I smirk upon noticing how his face is still slightly blanched from his aneurysm, and he sends me a glare before turning his attention to the scene in front of him. "What the hell is going on in here?"

Coco fights the Fist's grasp to turn and face him.  "Gallant decided to take a go at me, so I just did what any normal person would do; I fought back."

"Coco started it!" Gallant argues.  "She's being a petty bitch!"

Michael chuckles, an amused look on his face.  "Ms. Venable, if it is alright with you, I would like to talk to both of them in my office."  It is not so much a request but a command.

Ms. Venable sighs as she waves her hand dismissively.  "They're all yours."

Ms. Mead and the Fist release Coco and Gallant, leaving them to follow Michael.  I watch in interest, wondering if I should be nosy and spy on their conversation.  

After a few minutes, my curiosity gets the best of me.  "I'm going to go freshen up," I lie as I excuse myself from the table.  Venable sends a questioning glance my way as I slip out of the dining room.

Once I'm out of view, I transmutate to the balcony in Venable's office.  I appear at the top of the staircase, the dim lighting making me blend in with the shadows.  

Luckily, Coco and Gallant are too wrapped up in their argument to notice my presence.  Michael stiffens slightly, most likely being able to sense me.  I ignore him as I sit and lean against the railing, settling in to watch the fight that's going down.

"He's being oversensitive and refusing to do my hair for the Halloween ball!" Coco exclaims frustratedly as she points to Gallant.

"She's being a bitch and using every opportunity she gets to give me snarky remarks!" Gallant argues.

"That's enough," Michael declares, his tone making it clear that they have no choice but to quiet down.  "You're acting like children."

I stifle a scoff; if only they knew that he was the child in the room.

They both look down as he soaks up their shame.  "Now, I am willing to make you an offer," he states as he steps forward.  "I will allow the two of you to decide which one of you is worthy of going to the Sanctuary.  If you cannot come to an agreement, neither of you will go."

"What the fuck?" Coco scoffs.  "We all know that Gallant and I will never be able to make that decision."

Michael shrugs.  "Fine by me.  If you can't make a decision, you will both stay here and die."

Gallant and Coco turn to each other, speechless.  Gallant turns back to Michael.  "But what about-"

"No buts," Michael interrupts.  "Of course, I could just take back my offer and allow the two of you to die here."

"No, I'm sure we'll work something out, Mr. Langdon," Coco says as she shoots Gallant a glare.  I can tell right away that she is not going to be giving in to Gallant anytime soon.

Michael looks between them before turning away.  "You have until the Halloween Ball to make your decision.  I expect you to tell me your decision no later than just before it starts."

They both nod as they're leaving.  I transmutate down to Michael's desk as the door closes behind them.

"That is absolutely evil," I scoff.  "You're forcing them to make this decision when you know they won't even live for it to be enacted upon."

He smirks.  "You seem more amused than bothered by it."

"Well, I mean, it's genius.  It's evil, but it's genius," I chuckle.  "It'll force those two to work out what's going on between them at least."

He just watches me amusedly, so I walk forward to his desk.  "When even is this Halloween ball?" I ask as I lean over onto the desk.

He looks up at me.  "In one week."

"Please tell me you've come up with a plan for how to deal with the witches," I sigh.

He rolls his eyes.  "How am I supposed to form a plan when I have my ally giving me aneurysms during our arguments?"

I roll my eyes and pretend to turn to leave, but he speaks up when I'm halfway across the room.  "Valentina, how the hell do I gain your trust?"

I turn back to him to see a slightly defeated yet frustrated expression on his face.  I cross my arms over my chest.  "Maybe not breaking my wrist every time I disrespect you would be a good start."

He sighs as he leans against the desk and allows his hands to fall to his sides.  "I'm sorry."

I raise a brow.  "You're apologizing?" I question almost mockingly.

"You see, I'm trying a thing called being the better person.  You should try it sometime," he says sarcastically.

I scoff.  "That's rich, coming from the Antichrist."

"Valentina, we have a week until the Halloween ball.  If we don't work this out, we're fucked."

"We're fucked either way.  As long as we get into a showdown with the witches, you're not getting out of this alive; therefore, neither will I."

"Have some faith in me," he sighs.  "With our combined powers, we'll be able to kill the witches."

"Normally, I would believe you, but I have a hard time believing that the witches would hide Mallory in this outpost right under your nose if they didn't have a plan - and a good one at that.  They aren't stupid; this plan must be one that'll kill you for good."

He rolls his eyes.  "I can read minds; I'll find out whatever the plan is and stop it."

"You'll probably be too late.  As you said earlier, we have no idea how many witches are hiding under our noses, let alone how many are hiding with Cordelia Goode.  My guess is that there will be a lot, enough to delay you for long enough for them to carry out their plan."

"We can turn Dinah Stevens to our side-"

"Our side?" I question.  "I've made myself perfectly clear; I don't want to help you finish killing off the world population.  You're on your own."

"How many times do I have to remind you that you die if I die?" he states condescendingly.

"And I have never needed the reminder.  I heard you perfectly well the first time you told me."

"And you're still refusing to help me?"

"As surprising as it may sound for how bad my morales are, I am willing to die in exchange for the world population."

Michael sighs as he leans back and places his head in his hand.  "We're supposed to be allies here!" he scoffs as he dramatically holds his hand out.

"Guess what?  I don't want to!"

"For the last time, you don't get a choice!"  He is now on his feet, storming towards me.

"What are you going to do about it, make me help you?" I challenge, taking a defensive stance upon seeing his rising anger.

He roughly takes my arm.  "Let me show you exactly why we are killing the witches."

I quickly try to push his hand off my arm, but his grip remains tight as steel.  "Let go of me, you asshole!" I protest as he drags me over to the desk.

He begins muttering under his breath in a foreign language: it sounds like Latin.  I dig my nails into his arm to the point that I draw blood, but his grip only tightens.  

His chant grows louder and I begin to feel a pounding in my head.  "Michael, stop!" I shout as I push him once more.  I am about to use my powers to throw him back when he releases me.  My surroundings go black before I hit the ground.