"Yo, is this place open or what?"
Simon looked up to find a college-aged kid in a backward cap standing at the counter, peering over at him. The blood from his finger was still dripping onto the floor next to Charlie's unconscious form.
"He's... taking a break," Simon said.
"Behind the counter?"
"Yes."
The kid shrugged. "Can you ring me up then? I just need a Monster and some Doritos."
Simon stared at him. Then at Charlie. Then back at the kid, who was already placing items on the counter.
"I don't work here."
"Come on, man. I've got exact change." The kid slapped three dollars down. "Unless you want me to just take it?"
The office door banged open.
"What the hell is—" Mr. Denton stopped, taking in the scene: Simon standing behind the counter with blood dripping from his finger, Charlie sprawled on the floor, and a customer waiting with increasing impatience.
"For fuck's sake." Mr. Denton stepped over Charlie's body to reach the register. "Not again."
"Again?" Simon couldn't help asking.
"Third time this month." Mr. Denton rang up the customer with practiced efficiency. "Last week it was some lady with a papercut. The week before that, some kid scraped his knee in the parking lot."
The customer grabbed his items and left, apparently unbothered by the unconscious employee on the floor.
Mr. Denton pointed at Simon. "You. You're helping me move him."
"I don't?—"
"You made him faint, you help carry him." Mr. Denton grabbed Charlie under the arms. "Get his legs."
Simon found himself obeying automatically, gripping Charlie's ankles. The vampire weighed almost nothing. Simon had carried gear packs heavier than this entire person.
"Break room's back here," Mr. Denton grunted, backing through a doorway.
They maneuvered down a narrow hallway to a cramped break room that smelled like burnt coffee and existential dread. A sagging couch occupied one wall.
"Gentle," Mr. Denton warned as they lowered Charlie onto it. "Kid bruises like a peach."
That was interesting. Vampires shouldn't bruise.
Then again, they also shouldn't be eating ketchup.
Who knew what this fool had done to his body?
Simon watched Mr. Denton arrange Charlie's limbs with surprising care, putting a lumpy cushion under his head.
"There's a first aid kit above the sink," Mr. Denton said. "Fix your finger before you bleed all over my break room."
Simon moved to the sink, unable to process how he'd gotten himself in this situation.
He found the kit and started cleaning his cut, watching Charlie in the mirror. This close, under the harsh fluorescents, the vampire looked even worse. Hollow cheeks. Cracked lips. Deep rings under his eyes.
A bottle of cherry syrup sat on the table next to someone's abandoned lunch.
