he typically didn't cry in front of people, so he tells himself it's shame that makes him block out whatever happened after chief taylor grabbed him. all he remembers is his arm flying backwards, his voice sounding smaller than ever in some attempt at intimidation— don't fucking touch me, that's my friend. a child having a tantrum. he doesn't know what he said after that, what he did for those few minutes. he's furiously wiping at his face now, though, practicing an apology to chief taylor in his head on the way to his car when he spots her "liza." that isn't his voice "can i— do you want a ride?"

there are eyes on them. heads whipped around at the sound of metal clanging. his cart is a few feet away from him, hers is askew from where they collided. even romy looks surprised at himself for a moment, but he gains his confidence back as he approaches to retrieve his cart, leaning over the push bar "let's go." he's moving the items from her cart into his, pulling his wallet from his pocket as means of explanation "tell you about my night if you tell me about yours."