Lunch took place at a Sandwich Place not far from Ean’s apartment, in a much nicer part of town. It was a popular place, and crowded. Nonetheless, Ean and Rachel were hastily seated and provided menus.
That’s odd, Rachel remarked as she slid into the booth seat across from E.
What? Ean asked, as he was a little too preoccupied to catch it on his own.
There was a line, Rachel said, and they jumped us to the head of it.
Huh, Ean said. He glanced at it, and then around the shop, belatedly realizing where they were. He’d used to come to this establishment regularly, before he’d met his now ex. Apparently the management still remembered him. Maybe they’re all waiting on takeout, Ean suggested and quickly changed the topic. You don’t have to do this, you know. Apologize, I mean. Despite everything that happened this morning, getting fired today really was my own fault.
Rachel watched the couple at the front of the line get seated and turned back to Ean. You’re wrong about the line, she said. Then: And what do you mean, it was your fault?
Ean laughed weakly. There’s a company policy, he said while trying to ignore the venue they were in. If you’re late to work too many times you get fired. And, well, I was running late today.
Hmmm, Rachel murmured. She arched an eyebrow in a fair impersonation of Spock. Well, now I’m curious as to why you let me take you out under false pretenses.