Reggy was almost to the relative safety of the bathroom when Miss Treble stopped him. His shoulders slumped as he turned around; of course he wasn't going to get off that light. Here it came, probably a lecture on responsibility, or notice that he was getting written up for dicking around on the clock, or -- dear God, what was<em>that</em>thing? His eyebrows practically leaped to the ceiling as Miss Treble picked up a huge, gaudy knit bag and began digging around inside it. It was obviously a patchwork job, and didn't even look like it went with itself, let alone anything else, but the first thing that entered Reggy's mind was how much it reminded him of Mary Poppins' magic bag.<em>'I bet she really <span class="bbc_u">could</span> pull a lamp post or something out of that thing,'</em>he thought.<br/><br/>As it happened, he wasn't far off; Miss Treble withdrew a beach towel that looked like it could serve passably as an automobile tarp, and tossed it to him in a wad. Reg spread out two of the ends and let it fall open, the huge, snarling one-eyed pirate fluttering limply at his waist. He studied the mascot for a moment then looked back to his boss, one eyebrow lifted inquisitively.<br/><br/>"I go to the public pool after work sometimes. It's open late some nights. It's clean, so use it if you want to dry up." She explained, and he nodded in acceptance, gratefully wrapping the oversized towel around his shoulders. He felt a little warmer already. Reggy kept his eyes lowered and gave her a shy smile as she let him know he was off the hook for now. Of course, the smile quickly faded when he realized she almost certainly<em>wouldn't</em>let him off the hook after she found out his register was short because those jerks refused to pay for their snacks. He swallowed hard and drew the towel tighter around himself, wondering if he should tell her now or at the end of the night. Before he could decide, however, she turned and walked back into the office.<br/><br/>Well, that settled that, he supposed. He would explain what happened after closing, and ask her to just take the money out of his paycheck at the end of the week. That would be fair, and hopefully she wouldn't fire him on the spot for fucking up twice in one night. Reggy stepped into the bathroom and toweled off his hair and arms, peeled off his vest and T-shirt and wrang them both out over the sink before getting re-dressed and headed back out to the front counter. At least the night was nearly over, and there were no more showtimes scheduled. Nothing left to do but finish wiping everything down and sweep and mop up, and hope that the rest of the night would be as peaceful -- as<em>safe</em>-- as possible. Surely it couldn't get much worse than it had been already...right?