Alright, it doesn’t look good. Max has his wallet out, four dollars and a few cents all that remain. He’d had plenty for a meal last he checked. ( Prudence and/or Jude are to blame, he’s sure. )

         “Look, I  ---  I’ve had my fair share of shitty waitresses, and you’re not one of them.” There’s a beat during which he climbs to his feet and holds out his hand, palm facing upward, ‘There’s nothing I can do!’. “But I think I’m gonna have to dine and dash. SO SORRY.”