Turning away without a response, I hand the meal's check and the card to the woman who would be processing my payment. She was marvelously good at seeming oblivious to the tension crackling between her customers.
> Maybe little arguments happen a lot at a place like this? <
However, Paul shifted uncomfortably beside me again and nervously straightened the pair of containers in the bag he held. Clearly sensing something was wrong even if he didn't understand fully what her implication was.
"Thank you."
I didn't have time to pay attention to the teen on the other side, because as my fingers took the card back… a hand touched my wrist. She didn't *grab*, but she did interrupt the direction I was pulling my arm back in.
"Nothing to say? I'm just curious about what paid services you might be providing to be… given access to someone else's personal account that you've just met."
