Work Text:
Carter sits on the edge of the wooden bait shop counter, aggressively filing her nails while casting side-eyes at Rosie, who is staring blankly at a displays of plastic worms.
"Look, 'Rosie,' if you're going to stand around in designer boots pretending to know what a crankbait is, at least look like you're having fun," Carter mutters, her tone laced with sharp, barely-masked hostility.
Rosie lowers her head, the glossy facade cracking completely. "I do not care about the fish, Carter," she whispers, her voice trembling as tears pool in her eyes. "I care that my home is taken, my mother is in hiding, and I am trapped in a damp swamp under a name that isn't even mine."
The hostility drains from Carter’s face, replaced by a sudden, heavy guilt. She shifts awkwardly on the counter, wiping her hands on her denim skirt before stepping over.
"Hey... okay, wait, don't cry," Carter says, her voice softening as she reluctantly places a comforting hand on her rival's rigid shoulder, squeezing gently. "I'm sorry. I get it. It... it really sucks, but you're safe here, okay?"