The lady seems determined to try burying herself wholly into the checkout task now to finish up and get me and Midnight out of here as quickly as possible, going through our remaining food items faster than before. "One hundred eight even," she says upon final tally, giving me the first glance since I spoke up prior. Her face shows she's just a bit frazzled as if questioning life itself at the moment – or what she's currently dealing with in front of her.