Bar Tab.

[realmrsreynolds]

There is a Barman on duty.

Sort of.

Duty, here, is more defined as Sallie chewing on a pencap while staring at one of the monstrosities that passes for accounting books in the bar at the end of the 'verse.

At one point, she takes a red marker from her pocket, uncaps it with a flourish, and scrawls a large THIS DOESN'T EVEN COMPUTE across the top

Comments

[hadyougoing]

Ava grimaces.

"It's that time, huh?"

[realmrsreynolds]

"'Fraid so, my dear," Sallie caps the marker with an appropriate ferocity for the red ink it holds, but gives the young lady a smile anyway.

"Of course, if there's help that you might be needing in that regard, there are certainly options..."

[hadyougoing]

"Oh-- no, I'm good!"

Ava shakes her head, eyes wide. (This is not saying much, as her eyes tend that way already.)

"I mean. I think I am." She leans forward against the counter, making a vague waving gesture from the wrist. "I probably have to figure that out over the next couple of days. What's the deadline on this thing?"

[realmrsreynolds]

"I'd like to close out in a week or so? See where I am?"

Sallie holds up the book. Her latest in red scrawling print is not the first frustrated note she's written herself.

"I've got time."