While the other girls in attendants to Blair's sleepover got the privilege to frolic around Manhattan as they pleased, Scarlett found herself growing bored at the thought of dealing with Nate's business. But he'd do the same for her, well, maybe not quite to that extent — probably because she wouldn't be in the situation, but partially because he wouldn't know how to deal with it and end up panicking.
But still, despite her own wishes Scarlett found herself in a godawful nightclub where the music was too loud and off-key for her to stomach and the people were too intolerable for her to stand about there all night. Eli would love the place, of course — it wouldn't be too shocking if he were lounging around somewhere, truth be told.
Surveying the darkened room, Scarlett rolled her eyes. Now bars, bars were fine — clubs, on the other hand were far too over the top, noisy, and beyond obnoxious. There was no class in it, only disgruntled sweaty bodies that risked ruining the fabric on her shoes with humidity — and that just wouldn't do. But clubs suited men like Carter just fine, so the sooner she could fix her friend's mistake, the sooner she could leave.
The man was easy to spot, sat at the bar with a sickly smug look on his face — almost as though he hadn't had his whole 'bankrupt the Archibald kid' plan dismantled. His suit would look expensive to the average person, but the stitching wasn't quite right for a personal tailor and the blazer didn't sit quite right — Carter running on hard times it appeared, and if he ran out of pride as well as money, he might've been smart enough to run home to mommy and daddy.
As Scarlett approached, she let a distaste be known with a judging up and down, one that Carter took no notice of, of course. "Glad you could make it." He commented, surveying the girl shamelessly. "Dressed to impress, too." He added, the brunette letting out a huff as she shoved passed him, taking a seat at the bar.
"We're getting this over with quickly." Scarlett announced, perching her small handbag atop the bar counter. She'd been there before, briefly, but it was hardly a regular spot. "Your usual?" Carter hummed, Scarlett almost quirking a smile — the last time Carter had seen Scarlett her 'usual' had been a cherry-lime margarita, and while Scarlett was nostalgic of them, they were hardly her go-to now.
