Chapter 1 Part 2. Assembly

Warning: contains semi-mature subjects

Sliding his half torn sneakers across the sticky hardwood floor, John took a seat as the buzzing from various neon signs mixed with the odd country music playing over the soundsystem, creating a mud puddle of audio. He ordered a cup of water before locking his eyes onto his dark grey sneakers as he attempted to ignore his surroundings, ignoring the chair being pulled out beside him, and ignoring the person who had sat down.
"What are you doing here?" A tired, feminine voice jeered beside him. John slowly raised his face to look at her, the dark caramel of his eyes contrasting with the lighter grey of hers.
"Oh, you know. Being a prickly little stick-in-the-mud like usual. You?"
"Hm," She seemed content enough with his reply to keep the conversation going, much to John's pleasure, "Same as I'm always doing. Work."
"Sounds enticing. Bit early to be on break, don't you think Abby?"
"Rich coming from you. How longs it been since you've had a job? Four months, five?" Her tone fell deeper and deeper into the same annoyed connotation that she became known for. She prodded her head, her sloppily dyed, mahogany messy bun flipping over with the sudden shift of balance.
"Seven actually, but who's counting?"
"I am, actually, considering you owe me for four months worth of rent," At this, John grimaced. Deep down, he knew the conversation would shift to this, but that doesn't mean that she was getting away with it. He took an extended sip from his frigid glass, as if attempting to tease her, and he began with his nonsense, quickly switching into an over dramatic tone.
"Is this the only reason you're here, Abigail? To torture me? To make fun of a man in need? If anything, I'd say we're square, considering the river incident," At this, Abigail paused for a moment.

"Oh, don't tell me you've forgotten about the river incident, Abby,"
Agitation burned at the corners of her face, her eyebrows turned down in a sort of calm rage that seemed to burn a hole through the sticky table. Of course she hadn't forgotten, how could she with him reminding her every other day. Abby didn't ask John to help her, in fact, her life would have been a lot better if he didn't. But this is John we're talking about. He's the only person who would hold something like that over anyone's head. Abigail couldn't think of a response that would let her keep her job at Matt's, so she simply answered one of his several questions, not forgetting to lace it with a sickly sweet, passive aggressive response.
"No, I haven't. Matt just wanted to see you," Hearing her voice infused with such a bitter hatred for the pitiful alcoholic she once called her friend, John grinned sadistically, pleased with Abby's daily dose of teasing, before excusing himself from the table.

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