[Laughing at Jack either gets you points or a punch in the throat. She leans back in her chair, the wide span of her knees broadcasting her own arrogance as she looks him up and down and decides - hell with it. He's fresh, he's fawn-wobbly, and he sounds like he might be funny.
She kicks open a drawer, pulls out a jar of clear fluid. It's small; it doesn't need to be bigger.]
One jar, one day of you picking up my prep work.
[She leans towards him, elbows on her knees, and smiles.]
no subject
She kicks open a drawer, pulls out a jar of clear fluid. It's small; it doesn't need to be bigger.]
One jar, one day of you picking up my prep work.
[She leans towards him, elbows on her knees, and smiles.]
You puke, it's two days.