why should i not want something better?

     “Hm. Right, friendly.”

     “Well… thanks again, then, I guess. I was already thinking the exact same thing.”

     Camilla frowned at the other woman, rolling her eyes before she noticed her phone come to life on the charging pad, and if she gave it a few more minutes, she’d have enough life in the device to make sure she could make it home. And now it felt like this person was trying to make her more uncomfortable — and of course, since obviously anyone who’d come here was probably an asshole in the first place. 

     “Thanks for the advice.”

   “Call it a friendly warning.”

     “Yeah. Definitely not on purpose and definitely never again if I have any say in it.”

   “Probably for the best.”

     She placed the pad down on the table next to the strange woman’s, not wanting to impede on her space, but more specifically, not wanting anyone else to mess up her night, and the last thing she needed was someone dumping their drink on her phone. She put her phone down on top, a light sigh passing between her lips in relief when the battery symbol appeared on the black screen. “The car I was in did. I don’t know what the driver was into, but he pissed someone off and I was so not sticking around to find out more about the story.”

     “Seems like you wanna find out about mine though.”

   “I was curious why you’d come to this neighborhood if you think it’s… what’d you say? Stupid?”

     “I don’t know. I’m not a mind reader.” 

     “Maybe you’re a grimy snob!”       Camilla tossed a fake yet polite smile at the bartender when he presented her with a charging pad, “Thank you.”

   “And you?”

     Camilla paused, raising her brows as she turned back to look at the woman, “Judging people based on their attire is like… one of the first and most obvious ways to judge people. If they want to prove me wrong, then by all means…”

     “I wasn’t wrong about you. Not entirely. You certainly seem like a snob.”

     “Well, you’re rude! So thanks for nothing!” Camilla didn’t bother offering any sort of goodbye, an overly sweet smile plastered on her face before she turned away to head to the bar.

     “Mmm, no thanks.”

     “I’m very happy with my entitlement.”

     “He also smells like a gutter and is surrounded by people who look equally as distasteful,” she replied, annoyance tinging her syllables. Camilla glanced over her shoulder at the bartender, eyes narrowing as they landed back on the woman, “I’m already here, at your table. Surely you can—” She stopped herself, realizing she was in a sketchy place and quite possibly annoying someone as she was asking them for help, which didn’t bode well for her. What if she didn’t call a car service but some creep-o who intended on kidnapping her for some ransom or… something worse. 

     “Whatever. Fine.”

   “Bartending is a sweaty job.”