"<span style="font-family: courier;">Aight</span>," was all they uttered as Axe went away to attend to whatever business she had to. They lifted their coffee off the table and immediately replaced it with crossed, blubbery legs, residue from the storm outside splattering on the surface. As they sipped their coffee, Nit took out their phone and sported a face that made them look rather upset. Despite what they promised, a slight bit of anger towards Axe lingered in them. Frail and dying when she was around, it gained a bit of strength when she left, its pace faster and its numbers teeming. Nit grumbled softly from the parasite's effects even when browsing through the fat birds and black comedy on their deep blue Dashboard, although viewing these images managed to calm them down and even have a chuckle or two escape their gullet. They were calmed enough to not act<span style="font-style: italic">that</span>rudely when the girl approached them.<br/><br/>They looked up from their device, their expression quite the same as it was before except with more curiosity. They examined the girl up and down, thoroughly, pinpointing all her details as she spoke. They had no idea who this girl was or why she was here or how the hell she managed to guess correctly that they were Axe's significant other. After all, they could have just been a friend.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-family: courier;">Sure,</span>" Nit replied simply, taking the napkin in a clumsy hand. Their hand carried the napkin to their end of the table. Well, tossed it to be specific, but it landed at the table's end regardless, flopping over from Nit's disregarding grip like a dead snow dove. After the girl left, Nit continued with their established routine with their coffee and phone, only peeping over at the paper on occasion, perhaps only two or so times before Axe returned. Though that was not necessarily the end of things.<br/><br/>The scream of a frog erupted from their phone as it informed them that The Chauffeur (or "Grout Yiffer" which Nit set up his contact name as) was calling them. Reluctantly, they picked up, growling faintly but aggressively.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-family: courier;">What?</span>" the clock snarled into the phone, sounding more like a dog than the dog himself.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-family: georgia;">Jeez, zomeone'z en a bad mood, huh, vutterball?</span>" The Chauffeur remarked. "<span style="font-family: georgia;">Anzyway, I called vecauze I may ve coming pha leetle late.</span>"<br/><br/>"<span style="font-family: courier;"><span style="font-style: italic">Late?</span></span>" Just the mere thought of delay exacerbated this short-tempered creature more. "<span style="font-family: courier;">Why, you're... licking up the... lint in your car... like the dog you... are?</span>"<br/><br/>"<span style="font-family: georgia;">No, joo raceezt fuck. I have to get Marcial vrum da hozpital.</span>"<br/><br/><span style="font-family: courier;">"Ho... Hospi... What?</span>"<br/><br/>"<span style="font-family: georgia;">Ugh. Dat vather joo have never tells joo anzything. He always tinks he might make joo upset! Queerz are zo ztupid...</span>"<br/><br/>"<span style="font-family: courier;">What did you just...</span>" Hastily, Nit took a huge gulp of their coffee in an attempt to calm down. "<span style="font-family: courier;">Not... now, yiffer. I just had the... worst night of-</span>"<br/><br/>"<span style="font-family: georgia;">And jet joo still call me 'jiffer'. I don't know how dat princez es going to marry an obesze, dizrezpectful zpic like joo.</span>"<br/><br/><span style="font-family: courier;">"You know... what, leg humper? How about... you focus on taking... that stupid grey... raisin wherever he needs... to go. Next you'll... get in a car crash... after constantly calling... me a ref, and... I'm not paying a... damn <span style="font-style: italic">sentado</span> for your...</span>"<br/><br/>Nit hissed out almost every derogatory term for anthros they knew at the time into the phone out of blind frustration, projecting their voice at the worst of times and places as they tossed these words like sharp rocks. They did not care what this did to their reputation; they were absolutely pissed, as usual. But right before they could burst into a bell-blaring rage and destroy everything in sight (again), they threatened The Chauffeur with a graphically explicit death and hurled their phone onto the table, a loud clack following its plummet to the table to the cushion to the floor. As if nothing had happened, the angered eldritch sat down, slowly, as if being lowered by a forklift, trying to avoid any wary eyes, particularly Axe's if she was there to see this go down. They huddled up to their corner, hand placed on the note while another one delivered the mocha to their maw. They appeared and were pretty exhausted, too exhausted to respond to the distant yelling dog on the filthy floor. Nit merely sipped, sipped away, delving into warm, chocolatey eh-ness.