Two finally glanced up, a single eyebrow raised. “That’s the ‘please don’t start a fight with the bikers’ booth. It’s facing the exit. For my convenience.”
A beat of silence. The jukebox crackled back to life with a slow, twangy guitar.
Two’s hand paused mid-wipe. “I’d tell you to see a doctor. Or an exorcist.”
Two rolled their eyes and snapped the rag at K’s shoulder. “Get out. I close in ten.”
“Ah.” K nodded solemnly. “So you do care about my safety.”