[PUNCH CLOCK ANIMAL] ASHTRAY

[skinstealer]

 
Chelsea gives their hand a squeeze, shaking her head a bit. 
 

CHELSEA: Fuck. 

 
Matthias watches it all with a shit eating grin, practically begging to be punched.

 
BUCKET: ...Chelsea?
CHELSEA: I'm okay. 

 
She’s practically squeezing the circulation out of their hand. 
 

CHELSEA: Really. I'm fine.

Bucket returns the squeeze. 
 

BUCKET: I don't understand.
CHELSEA: I don't want to talk about it here...please.

 
They nod, unwilling to push her any further.

MATTHIAS: You two should get a TV show or something, this is the best drama I've gotten in weeks. 

Matthias downs the last of his drink. 
 

MATTHIAS: And I thought today was gonna be boring.

BUCKET: ...I would suggest you not be caught on your own.
MATTHIAS: That a threat?
BUCKET: I'm looking out for you. 
BUCKET: I cannot guarantee your safety if you are found by your lonesome.
MATTHIAS: Mm, got it. A threat it is!
BUCKET: Legally speaking, no. 
BUCKET: That sort of claim would not hold any weight. 

They don't bother to face him, completely focused on Chelsea. 
 

BUCKET: Don't drag friends who aren’t willing to go down with you into this either. 
BUCKET: Spare them. 
BUCKET: They deserve better.

It seems to shake him for just a moment, but his horrible smile is back soon as ever.
  

MATTHIAS: I get the drift, lap dog. How about- 
 

 
He stands up, practically kicking one of his chairs away. 
 

MATTHIAS: I wait in the truck, and you ladies pay up. 
MATTHIAS: Motel's not too far from here and hey, I don't want to keep the drivers waiting.
BUCKET: We'll wrap up relatively soon. 
BUCKET: I don't want another incident like this for the rest of the trip.
MATTHIAS: It was an accident, just a little bump of the table. 

 
He makes an exaggerated gesture. 
 

MATTHIAS: Cross my heart.

 
Bucket doesn’t dignify him with a response. 
 

MATTHIAS: I'm out, then. 
MATTHIAS: Good luck with the bill.

 
He turns away before they could protest, bumping into their poor waiter on the way out. Bucket starts fishing through their pockets. 
 

BUCKET: Would you like to pack this for later? 
BUCKET: We can talk about this in our room.

Chelsea only manages a nod, clenching and unclenching her hand.
 

 

BUCKET: Are you okay?
CHELSEA: Managing.
BUCKET: Do you want out now?
CHELSEA: ...yeah. Sorry.

Bucket shakes their head. 
 

BUCKET: Dinner in bed is better anyway.
 

Chelsea does a quick look around before pressing her face into their shoulder, withdrawing just as quickly. 
 

CHELSEA: Okay. I'm okay. 
CHELSEA: Let's get out of here.

 
Bucket flags down their waiter, getting the food packed up, meal paid for, and scuttles along to get them both out of there.