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Summary
Robert knew this was a bad idea.
Because this was Z team– incapable of shutting the fuck up, for even one second. Word was going to get around.
Just like it had earlier; the whole reason he was even entertaining such stupid, petty, jealousy.
–Because that’s what this bitter feeling inside him was; not the bite of his whiskey going down empty, but the acid reflux of his own bitter emotions threatening to come back up, and stain the table a nauseating green.
Waterboy sputtered, but didn’t attempt to deny Prism's statement. This caused more laughter from the team, and teasing that lasted the last hour of shift. An hour of Robert having to sit there and listen to them talk about Herman getting hot and sweaty with some fucking guy, while attempting to remain detached the whole time.
So he sat back, and didn’t say much of anything; hoping that when the clock ran out, that would be the last time he’d ever have to endure it.
The instigators had thought it would be so funny to bring everyone to that same club after work today. Like they were hoping for a round two.
Well fuck– if they wanted a round two, he’d give them a round two. He’d give Waterboy a show.