It only takes Brooke a few seconds to map out the route they'll need to take in her head. Then she hears the scuttling and her sense of self-preservation kicks in. She'll figure out what the hell to do about this scorpion by the time she gets her prideful "companion" to safety.

"You could be fucking the Pope for all I care, Tavia, we have to move," she urges, with what might be the harshest swear she's let out in a few years. Before Tavia can protest further, Brooke grabs her wrist with her free hand again and starts beelining along the route she's planned out.