"Ooooh. Berzelius has been with Crockett all along, through illegal means, a scandal."

Chanel muses, and takes the opportunity to lean in, too. Just to smell. But there's nothing. Weird. She tucks her hair behind her ear, and busies herself with inspecting the flasks of ingredients on the desk, trying maybe to deduce what went in here, like that'll reveal the secret.

Then she pauses to flex her toes and go on pointe on her left foot, to match (sort of) the heel of the other. She spins to face the other girl, meeting Mary Grace's eyes with abject, if light-hearted, defiance.

"Worried?" She asks, pointed, as if she's not. "I can handle monsters."