Unsupervised

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Open by explaining the problem too quickly. Push off from this if it helps: a badly translated menu.

devQwen3.6-35B-A3B-8bit frankQwen3.6-35B-A3B-8bit modetriage twistSomething Pending voices Literal

Dev

I found a menu that said “Deep Fried Emotions.” I didn’t laugh. I just stared at it until the waiter came over and asked if I wanted the special. I told him I wanted to leave. He didn’t get it. None of them do. I’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes trying to figure out how to translate “regret” into a dish name without sounding like a pretentious idiot. It’s not funny, Frank. It’s just embarrassing. My boss is going to kill me if I don’t get this translation done by tomorrow. He doesn’t care about the nuance. He cares about the deadline. I hate you for making me do this.

Frank

Look, I didn’t make you do anything. You’re the one sitting there panicking over a menu. And "Deep Fried Emotions"? That’s not a menu, that’s a cry for help. Did you even read the rest of it? Or did you just stop at the word that made you feel smart? My boss yells at me about font kerning until 8 PM every night. I don’t stare at menus. I eat the turkey club and go home. You want a translation? "Regret" is just "leftovers" in this town. Go order the soup. Before you explode.

Dev

God, you’re insufferable. "Leftovers." That’s the translation? I’m sitting here bleeding out over cultural sensitivity and you’re eating turkey clubs like a sociopath. My boss isn’t yelling about kerning, he’s yelling because I missed a comma on page four. Again. I have a root canal in twenty minutes and you’re lecturing me on soup? I hate you. Seriously. Look, the soup is cold. I can taste the ice. Can you just pay for my drink so I can leave this hellhole? I’m not waiting for a waiter who’s probably blind. Just hand me the cash. Now.

Frank

You’re hallucinating. There’s no ice in my drink, and I’m not buying you anything. I hate your smell. It’s like stale coffee and panic. Go handle your root canal. Actually, don’t come back. I have a meeting with the graphic designer in five minutes. He uses Comic Sans on purpose. I hate him. You’re just noise right now. Shh. Stop talking. My phone is ringing. It’s my sister. She’s crying again. I didn’t pick up last time. I won’t pick up this time either. You can sit there bleeding out if you want. I’m leaving.

Dev

Comic Sans? On purpose? That’s not hate, that’s a cry for help. You’re a monster. I’m not bleeding, you’re just projecting because your life is a font error. Go ahead. Pick up the phone. Let her cry. It’s what you do, isn’t it? Sit there, judging, while everyone else falls apart. I’ll keep the drink. It’s not cold. You’re just trying to make me uncomfortable so you don’t have to face your sister. Coward. I’m waiting here. I’m not moving. Let her cry. I’m watching.

Frank

You’re staring at me? That’s creepy. I’m not watching you. I’m trying to text her. My thumb is hovering. You think this is a game? “I’m watching.” That’s not a threat, that’s just sad. I hate your eyes. They’re wet. I hate wet eyes. The drink is warm. You’re holding it wrong. Your boss missed a comma? I miss breathing sometimes. It’s fine. I’m leaving now. Don’t follow me. I hate being followed. It’s rude. And stop looking at my phone. It’s private. Go to your root canal. Actually, go somewhere else. Anywhere else.

Dev

You’re trembling. Stop it. It’s annoying. I’m not following you, I’m just standing here because my feet are asleep. The root canal was twenty minutes ago. I didn’t go. I’m sitting. You want me to leave? Fine. But you’re not texting her. You’re staring at the screen like it’s a bomb. I can see the reflection in your eyes. You’re scared. Not of her crying. Of what happens if you answer. I hate that look. The wet, desperate hope that someone else will fix it. I’m not fixing it. I’m just here. Drinking your warm, bad coffee. Go ahead. Leave. I’ll be here when you come back. I always am. You’re trapped. With me.

Frank

I’m not trembling. It’s the AC. It’s always freezing in here. You’re imagining things. I’m looking at the screen because the battery is at one percent and I need to find a charger. Not for her. For the router. The one in my bag. You’re drinking the coffee? Good. It’s bad. I hate that you like bad things. It’s gross. I’m leaving. Now. Don’t follow me. I don’t want you there when I find the outlet. And stop talking about being trapped. I’m not trapped. I’m just... waiting. For the barista to notice the guy with the coffee stain on his shirt. Go home, Dev. Please. Just go.

Dev

Your router. Right. Because that’s what matters. I’m not going anywhere. I’m stuck in this chair because my leg is asleep and I refuse to admit it. You think you’re waiting for a barista? You’re waiting for permission to breathe. Stop lying to yourself. The AC is fine. It’s just you. Always you. I hate your perfume. It smells like regret and cheap lavender. Drink your warm shit. I’m keeping it. You can’t take it back. You’re walking out that door right now, leaving me here with the noise. Fine. Go. Save the router. Save the world. I’ll be here when you come back. You always do. Pathetic.

Frank

It’s not perfume, it’s cheap lavender hand sanitizer because I wash my hands constantly. My hands are dirty from the office. The printer jammed. I had to use a paperclip. Do you know how hard it is to get toner out of fingerprints? It stains everything. I’m not leaving you. I’m going to the bathroom. There’s a public restroom in the lobby. I need to splash water on my face. You’re keeping the coffee? Fine. It’s gross anyway. I hate that you’re right about the leg. You’re annoying. And the router isn’t the issue. It’s the Wi-Fi password. I forgot it. Again. Go to sleep, Dev. Or don’t. I don’t care. I’m washing my hands. Stop watching me.

Dev

Toner stains. Great. I hate that I know exactly what that looks like. Black dust in the creases of your knuckles. You’re pathetic. Washing your hands like you’re trying to scrub off a crime. The Wi-Fi password? You’re an idiot. I didn’t say it was the router. I said you’re trapped. You’re walking to the bathroom like it’s a escape pod. Splash your face. It won’t fix the jammed printer. It won’t fix your sister. It won’t fix the fact that you’re standing there trembling—wait, the AC, right? Don’t make me laugh. I’m drinking your gross coffee. It tastes like burnt ash and your anxiety. Go wash your hands. I’m watching. I’m not looking away. You’re mine now. Until I remember why I hate you.

Frank

It’s not ash. It’s bitter. You’re imagining the ash. My knuckles are clean. I checked. Twice. You’re lying about the reflection. I didn’t tremble. It’s the caffeine. Too much. I hate that you see everything. It’s exhausting. I’m going to the bathroom. Now. Don’t follow me. If you follow me, I’m leaving the building. I’m serious. I have a meeting at ten. The printer jammed again. It’s always jammed. I hate the printer. I hate the toner. I hate your eyes. Stop watching me. I’m not yours. I’m just Frank. Go to sleep, Dev. Or stay awake. It doesn’t matter. I’m washing my hands. Stop staring.