I’m sitting, tired, at a 3 AM breakfast buffet and he looks at me.

“What?”

There’s a girl to my left with a giant wet spot on her breast. I mean it’s huge. She and her friend are screaming at the two looming fellows directly in front of them. One of the girls - the one with the long fake nails - rears back in a very distinct way and I sigh and have flashbacks from work. She hocks something green and runny over looming fellow #1’s lapel. I can see her jaw work as she reloads.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.”

He repeats the question.

Wet breast girl is yammering at the top of her lungs and suddenly lunges at looming fellow #2. Fake nails girl has a full arsenal and decides to fire a second round of spit at looming fellow #1. He lifts his hands out of reflex and instantly looks disgusted as a blob of sticky goo hits his right palm. Rookie.

“You’re going to have to yell.”

Security finally shows up and stops wet breast girl from slapping the shit out of LF#2. Fake nails has ceased her phlegm attack and tells the officer that LF#2 decided to spit at them whenever they walked by. Hence the wet breast and the retaliatory action. Naturally. LF#1 looks forlorn as he decides to wipe his hand on his pants.

“What?”

He looks at me. Nevermind.

They’re all escorted out the door.