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"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE LEAVING," Violet commented from the door frame, staring at the girl as she packed her final belongings into her bag. Molly was likely forgetting something, but in truth she didn't much care for a stray t-shirt.
Violet Harmon couldn't keep the bitterness out of her tone while she spoke, knowing full well she was acting immature. The teenager simply couldn't help it - Molly was her only friend, the one person she could talk to. If she left, the blonde would go back to being almost entirely alone, save for her parents. Not to mention the complete and utter boredom.
"I just have to get out of this city, Vi," Molly sighed, gripping the strap of her bag and hauling it over her shoulder. She gave her friend a saddened smile, and stepped toward her with her arms wide.
"What's in New Orleans that you can't get here?" Violet huffed, embracing her in a hug nonetheless.
"I don't even know any more," Molly admitted, voice muffled against the cardigan on Violet's shoulder. "But I guess that's where everyone I grew up with is. I don't really have anywhere else to go."
"I'll miss you, I guess," Violet leaned back, dropping her hands down by her sides with a shrug. "Maybe. Whatever."
"I'll really miss you," Molly revealed, a wave of emotions coming to the surface and threatening to make her cry at any second. "You're the first real friend I've ever had."
"Likewise, I guess," Violet smirked, stepping back out of the doorway and nodding with her head towards the left. Molly shuffled towards the hallway, looking out to see what she was gesturing at. She was mildly surprised to see all of the Murder House occupants she had come into contact with, standing waiting for her.
Ben and Vivian were the closest to her, smiling warmly and nodding their heads in goodbye. Reluctantly, Molly accepted the hug Vivian offered to her, still a little uncomfortable around the woman after her compliment for the incident.
"I wish you the best of luck, Molly," Vivian murmured in her ear, squeezing her tightly before letting go.
Ben settled for an awkward clap on her back, suggesting that if she should ever need a therapist, he was only a trip away. Constance Langdon stood further down from them, smoking a cigarette and offering the slightest of smirks. Her approach was much more regal and stiff, but Molly had never much cared for the woman anyway.
"Thanks again for getting rid of the old maid," she nodded to her, bringing her cigarette to her lips for a long drag.
"I didn't do it for you," Molly responded curtly, "but if you ever feel like meeting the Devil himself, do let me know."
