viscera-stained rubber gloves snap as they free sweaty hands and softly land with a rustle in the trash as they're disposed of. romy rolls his stool away from the body on his table as the embalming fluid pumps in, glancing up at the clock. he gets to his feet and drags himself over to dawn, leaning with an almost cringe-worthy facsimile of effortless charm against a cart of equipment and nearly losing his balance when its wheels ( of course ) begin to rotate. he shifts his weight back onto his feet and chuckles awkwardly, pulling the cart back into position smoothly. "hey," he says, forcing a casual tone. ( his little crush on her was honestly pathetic, but he'd convinced himself weeks ago he was more than okay with staying friends, after all, it'd be inappropriate to date a co-worker, right? ) "i don't know about you, but i could use a drink."
he smiles at her genuinely, warmly and seems to relax as they make eye contact. "you wanna hit the bars with me once we're done here? celebrate the start of our mid-week weekend."