﻿Wipe the counters. Stack the cups. Bag up the leftover popcorn. Sweep the spilled Junior Mints out of the corner. By the time closing rolled around, Reggy had almost convinced himself it had been a normal night. Blessed routine kept his mind safely insulated from thoughts of rat-people and offers for magic lessons, and blissful solitude gave him the chance to re-establish his usual composure, unimpressive as it may have been.<br/><br/>Of course, then Miss Treble came back out of her office and signaled Reggy to come and count out his register, and the impending consequences of the evening's prior events slammed home like a wrecking ball against his gut. His body was numb and he moved robotically as he unsnapped the register box and sat it on the counter. Reg couldn't bring himself to respond to her comments on the weather; he was too preoccupied with imagining what she would be saying in a few minutes. He couldn't even enjoy the short skirt she'd changed into (although that wasn't so much from stress as it was simply a lifelong habit of refusing to allow himself to notice such things; nobody wanted a guy like him paying<em>that</em>kind of attention to them, after all).<br/><br/>He kept his eyes on the floor just behind Miss Treble's heels, the register box tucked under one arm with the loose coins within jangling rythymically at every step. Reg drew up short and took a deep breath as she stepped into her office, then followed her inside. He'd sort of expected a last-minute flash of panic, but Reggy felt oddly calm as he sank down onto the office chair's worn-out cushion. There was nothing he could do now anyway, except explain what had happened and accept his fate. He needed this job badly, not just for the money but because it was one of the few things in life that was<em>his</em>, that<em>worked</em>. But in a way, Reg almost hoped Miss Treble would fire him. She'd already been beyond cool to him once tonight, letting him off the hook when probably no one else would have, and he felt rotten to even think about imposing on her kindness once again.<br/><br/>His mouth felt almost as dry as it had on the rooftop as he sat with the box in his lap. Miss Treble finally levered the antique safe open and spun around toward him, a calculator and the night's receipts in her hands. Reggy unlatched the box and began counting out the cash and totalling up the charge slips, while Allison tabulated the expected totals. She finished well ahead of him and waited patiently as he tallied and organized the last of the bills. It hadn't been a<em>bad</em>night, at least in terms of sales, but...<br/><br/>"Um...Miss Treble? There's...something I should tell you..." His face already burning with shame, Reggy quietly cleared his throat, took a deep breath and fixed his eyes on the box in front of him. As he spoke, his voice was even softer than usual, and only grew quieter as he went on. "Earlier tonight, before my...break...there were these two guys, and their girlfriends, well their girlfriends weren't really so bad, but the two guys, they, um...they sort of didn't pay for their order. I tried to make them, at least, I mean, I wanted to, but they were really big, and they just refused, and...there were other customers in line, and I...I guess I just didn't want to cause any trouble, so...anyway, I'm afraid my register is going to be short tonight...but you can t-take it out of my paycheck this week, to make things fair. And...if you have to, I mean...I'll understand if you have to write me up, or fire me, or whatever...I won't dispute it or anything. I'm...really sorry...