The glass shattered and root beer splashed all over the aisle. A few people glanced over and smirked. Calvin swore, and instantly realizing his company, muttered something about French. Cynthia smirked and took of a sip of her own soda as Calvin snatched the napkin dispenser and started casting them sporadically over the mess.
"I didn't, eh, get you did I?" Cynthia shook her head. A waiter had grabbed a mmop and began his own battle with the soda. Calvin climbed back in seat, blushing and staring at his coaster. They both took rather large bites and did their best to ignore the waiter. When he left, Cynthia took a swing at the silence.
"So. You used to work here, right?" she said, twirling her straw through the ice.
"Um. Ya. I did. About, eh, a year ago." He hesitantly lifted the replacement soda he'd been given and and put it back slowly. "You know I should, er, tip that waiter." Cynthia bit her lip and nodded. Calvinwipedthe corner of his mouth. "After we finish, though."
"How's the pay?"
"It's, well, it's not good enough for the hours, I don't think. It's not really, um, well the place was built to run on tips. And the people here, uh, don't. Much." He took another large bite and the cheese strung and dangled from his mouth. He blushed again and he did his best to chew them off. Cynthia started admiring the decor.
"So... how long have you lived here?" she said, taking another stab. Calvin raised a finger to excuse the pause. He swallowed quickly.
"All my life." Cynthia nodded.
"I've only been here a couple years," she offered.
"I know. I mean, I remember when you, mm, came."
Calvin tapped his feet against the table.
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