"What happened to your hand?"
Oswald looked at you, wide-eyed, shocked that you had initiated conversation for a change. You had greeted him at the door, thinking he was a customer, and you had noticed the bandage wrapped around his hand. "Well…Fish and I had a little exchange of sorts. It's nothing. I deserved it, to be honest with you."
"That, I don't doubt." Still, you're relieved when he says it's minor. You glace over at him again to find that he's still staring at you. "What?"
"You're feeling friendly today, it would seem. Could it be that you're beginning to like me?"
"Ha! Tolerate, is a better word."
"Oh come now! I thought we were becoming such great friends, with all the time we spend in each other's company. We've been through so much together."
You really have, though, that's what's surprising. Somehow, you always end up in the same place. Maybe it's fate.
Oooh, no. No no no no no. You cannot start thinking that way. You stop that right now.
Unconsciously, you rubbed the back of your neck and sigh. "Just…go away, Oswald. I have a job to do."
"Oh, you don't want to get in trouble with the boss, right. Oh, wait, that's me! I'm the manager!" You glare at him. "Alright, I'll let you go. Don't make me fire you." Smirk.
That smug asshole. At least this time, you get to be the one walking away.