[Jade is friends with a man whose hobbies include writing hate mail to local newspapers and throwing rocks at pigeons. She will always have to be the more mature one.

He slips in through the front door for his morning shift, hanging up his hat and coat. It's drizzling outside, a humid August mist, and he rubs a towel over his face to try and clear up the unpleasant dampness. That's when he notices the box next to the ginger ale, which he hastens to because his stomach is empty and nothing but blood and acid for a morning won't end well.

He doesn't touch the box, but instead takes stock of her, the evident nerves, and somehow he knows they'll be alright. Whatever odd friendship they have has survived the storm. It brings him relief he didn't know he needed, like some muscle in his back has suddenly unspooled from its tense knot it's been holding for half a month now.]

I'm glad. You know that since it's embossed, that means I can't get money back if you want it returned, right? [He reaches over and touches the box and ribbon, but doesn't pick it up.] Is this tit for tat or is it some Ryslig national holiday?