Vic
Whose brilliant idea was it? The plastic’s yellowed, flaky. Looks like a fucking disease. But you’re the one who wanted to save the cost, right? So don’t sit there grimacing like a martyr. You signed off on it. We’re eating this now.
Start by asking whose idea it actually was. Push off from this if it helps: the colour of old plastic.
vicQwen3.6-35B-A3B-8bit
edieQwen3.6-35B-A3B-8bit
modehangover
twistHurt
voices Anxious
Edie
It wasn’t mine. I told you the supplier was sketchy. You wanted the margin. Now look at it. Your knuckles are white. You’re gripping the table so hard your thumb’s gone numb. I told you, Vic. I told you. And you’re still blaming me? You signed the PO. We’re both stuck.
Vic
My thumb is fine. Shut up. I signed because the board wanted the Q3 numbers to look pretty. Don’t pretend you weren’t checking your watch, hoping I’d just say yes so you could go home. We’re stuck? Good. Let it rot. At least the plastic doesn’t lie about who’s bleeding.
Edie
You’re shaking. Not your thumb, Vic. Your whole hand. Stop picking at the table. The varnish is peeling there, too. I was checking the time because my shift ended forty minutes ago. You didn’t just say yes. You begged. I saw you. Look at your lip. You’re biting it raw. I told you to stop. You won’t listen.
Vic
Shut up about the varnish. It’s peeling because it’s cheap, just like everything else. And I didn’t beg. I made a call. Look at your eye, Edie. Twitching like a fish on a dock. You’re terrified. Not of the plastic. Of being wrong. So go home. Go bleed somewhere else. I’m not done.
Edie
My eye isn’t twitching. It’s a spasm. You’re the one who’s pale. Look at your hands. They’re not just shaking, they’re blue at the tips. Cold shock. You think this is about being wrong? It’s about the liability. You’re sitting there, Vic, and your pulse is thumping in your jaw. I can hear it. Stop talking. Breathe.
Vic
Liability. Right. Because the hospital bills aren’t coming. You think I don’t know? My hands are cold because the AC’s broken, you paranoid witch. Stop staring at my pulse. It’s fine. It’s just adrenaline. I made the choice. I’ll take the fall. Now get out of my face before I scream.
Edie
The AC’s fine. The thermostat’s stuck. You’re sweating, Vic. Look at your collar. Damp. You said you’d take the fall, but your voice is cracking. Not adrenaline. Hypoglycemia. You haven’t eaten since morning. Go to the kitchen. Drink the water. Don’t look at me. Just drink. It’s the only thing that won’t rot.
Vic
Fuck you. I’m fine. It’s the stress. You’re sweating too, Edie. That spill on your shirt? Must have missed a spot. Or maybe it’s just panic. Go on, drink. I don’t need your pity water. I need that PO retracted. Or at least… Jesus, my head. Just… shut up.
Edie
It’s not sweat. It’s the cleaner. The cheap stuff. You’re touching your temple. Hard. Don’t rub it. That’s the pressure point. You’re going to make it worse. You want the PO retracted? Fine. But you’re leaning on the counter. Your shoulder’s slumped. Sit down, Vic. Before you fall. I’m not helping you up.
Vic
I’m not falling. Lean? That shoulder’s been dead for years. Rotator cuff. You think I care? Sit your ass down, Edie. Stop playing nurse. The PO’s dead. Let it burn. I’m not signing another thing until the supplier’s corporate structure is visible. And stop looking at me like I’m cracked. I’m just tired.
Edie
Dead? You’re gripping your neck. Not your shoulder. That’s the vagus nerve. You’re dizzy. The room’s tilting. I see it. Stop fighting it. You want transparency? Good. But you’re swaying. Your knees are knocking. Sit. Now. Or I’m calling the ambulance, and I don’t care if you hate me for it. You’re not tough. You’re fading.
Vic
Fuck the ambulance. I’m not going to some hospital to be poked while you stand there smug. My knees? Maybe. But I’m not signing that retraction on my deathbed. Sit down, Edie. You’re vibrating. Stop trying to save me. I made the mess. I’ll sit. Just… stop talking. The room’s spinning anyway.
Edie
I’m not smug. I’m watching your pupils dilate. You’re sitting too fast. Slumping. Your lip is bleeding again. You said stop talking, but you’re gripping your head. The spinning is bad. That’s inner ear. Or brain. I’m calling. You can fight me, but you can’t fight the collapse. I’m dialing. Don’t reach for the phone.
Vic
Don’t you dare. I’m not dying in a waiting room. It’s vertigo. Drink water. Sit down. You’re shaking worse than me. If you call, I’m suing. And your knuckles are white. Stop poking me. I’m fine. Just… give me a second. The room stopped. I’m fine. Stop looking at me like that.
Edie
Fine. I won’t call. But your shirt is soaked. It’s not sweat. It’s cold, clammy urine. You’re incontinent, Vic. Not just dizzy. Your legs are trembling. You can’t stand. You’re sliding down the cabinet. I’m not helping. Let yourself fall. Then we’ll see who’s really in control.