So — random, but do you still have that big glass jar? The one that used to sit on the shelf by the coats? Not the buttons specifically, I don't care about the buttons. Just wondering if the jar's still there. Or if you moved it. Or got rid of it. Whatever, forget it, it's not important.
Yeah, it's still on the top shelf. Dusted. I was actually just thinking about moving it out before... before someone notices. Why the sudden interest? You looking for something specific, or just fishing? Because if you're digging around, keep it quiet. I'm not supposed to have anything visible right now.
Fishing, mostly — no, forget it, I said forget it. It's nothing, I just remembered the jar existed, that's all, brains do weird stuff. Why would I be "digging around"? That's a strange thing to say to me. Anyway, what do you mean "not supposed to have anything visible" — visible to who, the landlord? Is this a mold thing again, because last time —
Don't jump to the landlord. It's not about mold. Look, I'm just trying to keep things tidy before the... before the inspection. You know how strict they've been. And stop asking why I said what I said; I wasn't fishing, I was warning you. You're always so dramatic about nothing. Just leave the jar alone, okay? I saw you staring at it earlier. It's making me nervous.
I wasn't staring at it, I glanced at it, there's a difference. And I don't know why you're getting worked up over a jar of buttons, it's genuinely bizarre. Fine — inspection, tidy, got it, I won't touch your button jar, God. Anyway I've got the Halloran thing at four so I can't sit here debating jars with you. What time's this inspection even at, roughly?
Halloran? Don't you usually go to those on Tuesdays? That's Tuesday. Today is... well, never mind. The inspection is supposed to be late afternoon, whenever they show up. I haven't confirmed a time yet because I'm waiting for a call. Seriously, stop hovering. You're making me paranoid. If I get caught with the jar, you're the first one they'll ask. Just go.
It's every other Tuesday, actually, they moved it — don't worry about my schedule. And "caught"? Caught doing what, buttons aren't illegal last I checked. Fine, I'm going. But if that phone rings and it's not the inspector, I want to know who it actually is.
It's not about legality, it's about optics. You're impossible. And I'm not waiting on a phone call, I'm waiting on a text. Stop asking who it is. It's nobody you know. You're assuming too much. Just go to Halloran and stop looking at me like that. The jar stays exactly where it is until I decide what to do with it. That's final.
Fine. "Nobody I know" — sure. Whatever, I'm going. Tell your mystery texter I said hi. I'll believe the inspection story right up until I don't.
Stop with the sarcasm, it's exhausting. If you weren't always so suspicious, maybe I wouldn't feel the need to hide anything. The jar isn't the issue. It's never the jar. Just go before you say something you regret. And don't forget, if anyone asks, you've never seen the buttons.
Never seen the buttons. Got it. Real convincing, by the way — "it's never the jar," said directly next to the jar. I'm going. Text me if the inspector actually shows, or whoever it turns out to be.
You're stalling. Stop lingering by the door. And don't text me first, I'm the one waiting. If you're wrong about the Halloran time, don't come back saying I didn't warn you. Just go. The jar is fine, stop acting like it's evidence of a crime. Some of us have to deal with real consequences, not just your suspicions.
Real consequences, huh. Fine, keep your secrets, keep your jar, keep your mystery text person. I'm gone. Don't move anything before I'm back — I'll notice.
You won't notice a thing, and you're not going anywhere near the shelf. Stop acting like I'm hiding a body. It's just a jar. If you're gone that long, maybe the Halloran thing got cancelled and you're just… stalled. Don't come back late and expect me to be waiting around. The phone's off the hook. Go.