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Summary
No one would have to know. He could feed his urges then promptly cover his tracks. Toss the scarf into the washer, hang it out to dry, iron it even and return it to her. A better plan would be to wait a few days, make her think it was lost forever before playing the hero. Increase the chances of Sydney looking at him with anything other than annoyance for the first time in ages.
The greatest detractor was that he would know. When she would flash a grateful smile or wear the scarf to work again, he would have to live with the transgression eating him from the inside out.
Carmy loathes himself for even considering this. Nevertheless, he takes a seat on the bench and unbuckles his belt. If he could live with never truly having Sydney, he could live with this. Carmy was a mascochist by nature after all.
