Welp, I'm getting a one-star for customer service.

"Don't act like this is some interrogation, for godsakes - we're here to talk because you won't," I stated, placing both hands on the table firmly and with a slight thud sound.

The air around us, while still cool as ice and dry as a desert, felt heavy, tensed, and aggravated, as if it carried the weight of our clashing words as we took quick breaths between exchanges.

"Do you even hear yourself?" Gale shot back, the earlier welcoming and clear voice turned fiery with defiant conviction, "You're sure making this feel like one."

"That's enough, both of you," A cold voice suddenly interjected, not loudly but sternly, "Keep things civil. You're in a public space - for crying out loud." My partner continued, her words making us reel back just an inch as we considered her statement.

"And what?" He turned to Myla, betrayal mixing into the cacophony of emotions on his face, "Let you two continue this shit? Yeah, no thanks." He responded, a deep furrow in his brows as he confronted her with harsher words as his emotions boiled over.

Perhaps I would've returned with a similar sharpness of tongue, but part of me was beginning to realize what we were doing and what Myla was trying to prevent, so I held those emotions back and calmed my tone, "Okay, look, I'm sorry for lashing out...Just let us do our job." My voice weakened, eking out a request for a ceasefire as I composed myself, or at least tried to.

"Is that all this is to you?" But our pleas were left unanswered, "A way to get a pretty penny by sticking your nose where it doesn't belong? You're a goddamn joke of a surveyor, you know that?-"

"Gale, don't you dare speak to him like that," Myla snapped at him, her voice now carrying vibrato as she spoke with an uncharacteristically intense tone, "Just moments ago, you were acting all haughty about not knowing anything - and now you're saying that? Trust me when I say that even if we weren't paid a dime for this, Bridger and I would be here to help you."

We were both taken aback, neither of us accustomed to the sudden vibrato in Myla's usually unwavering voice - and as the two of us stared at her, our throats froze cold.

I know this might sound weird - but then and there, I held back a massive smile.

Seeing Myla like that, with her pale skin flushed with color from her ears to her cheeks, her eyes ever-so-slightly strained as a slight tremble resonated in her words, and the look of contrasting yet absolute fire across her visage all tempted me to grin like an idiot.

When push comes to shove, she is one hell of a partner, huh? It's best not to push my luck, though. I'm definitely getting an earful after this wreck.

I did my best to resist smiling at my dear partner's badly-timed show of compassion before turning my attention to the young man, who fell equally silent.

Before I could lose any words from my tiring voice, Fable finally spoke - her voice reserved and a complete shift from our heated exchanges as she gave each of us the sweetest smile - a nary hint of negative emotion in her gentle tone.

"Let's all just sit down and...talk," She paused for a bit, giving us a direct but accommodatingly warm gaze, "Where are the three lovable fools I was with earlier?" Fable added, turning her head and exposing the slightest crack in her carefree mask - her brown eyes unmistakably gleaming as they reflected the lamplight.

It seemed what cued our ceasefire wasn't fervency and flame, but instead, repose and a call for rapport called us to holster our words and sit back down - the weight of our exchange finally crashing down on us as the adrenaline of the heated debate began to wear off.

As I sank back into the seat and took in the scene around me, it reminded me of how small we can really be. I just had a heated confrontation regarding what could decide a significant part of someone's life, pouring my heart out over it and witnessing a cavalcade of emotions coalesce in a matter of a few minutes, and the world around me? It didn't even flinch.

People continued to converse in their little bubbles without giving us a second thought as the omnipresent music echoed in the place's decorated halls. The smells of alcohol and vaping continued to drift in the winter air, and the faint taste of the chemically sweet juice lingered on my tongue as I scanned the area. And while I could feel my hands shake just a bit, I steadied myself as I closed my eyes and deprived myself of the outside world - one I knew would continue without an insignificant speck like me.

This long-winded, somewhat heavy-handed, and admittedly existential rant is to say something pleasingly simple.

The world stops for no one.

And even if I wanted to hit the fated and long-dreamed-of unreachable reset button we all wish for at some point in our lives, all I could really do was carry on.

No rest for the wicked, and after this shtick? I think I'm more than qualified for that title.

"...I'm honestly really sorry about that," I finally began, forcing out the words that got stuck in my throat as I struggled to regain eye contact with our clients, "I don't know...I didn't mean to get carried away. I'm sorry." I repeated - what for months felt so natural now felt like a Sisyphean task.

"It's...Well, it's far from fine. But we have more pressing matters to tend to." Myla continued, her words strung together far better than mine but holding a similar hesitance, "Gale, there's clearly something here, something you don't want to share with us." My partner resumed, trying to reengage the conversation - if you could even call it that.

Gale, however, stayed quiet.

His eyes, earlier a dull yet deep matte, now looked lifelessly gray as his breaths seemed deep and shaken. His swells of hair covered parts of his face as if he had retreated into his shell to lick the wounds he sustained from our verbal spat.

"Gale," His better half spoke up, placing her delicate hand on the young man's slim shoulder, "Please." And though succinct, her words were enough to sway him to reply.

"Look...Whatever it is you're trying to figure out...I can't give it to you." He spoke in a weak voice, though it felt convicted in its message, "Because I don't even know what you want me to say."

"We want you to say what you need to hear," I answered, though all I got was a headshake from the disquieted young man.

"And what's that supposed to mean, huh?" He returned, his response eluding me as I wondered if it was out of ignorance or denial.

"Gale, Fable came to us with this request. That's not something you or we should take lightly," Myla stated, regaining control of her cold silver voice as she spoke, "If there's anything you want to tell us, anything at all, I'd highly suggest doing so. Please."

"I don't know what you guys want me to say - what you want me to do." Gale replied, placing his forehead on his hand and only giving me a small peak at his dejected orbs through his brown and gold strands and slim fingers, "I've done everything to keep us happy - everything. Why am I all of a sudden in the wrong here?"

I was looking for the moment to speak, to try and tell him our motivations and show we were here with good intentions, but he continued before I had the chance.

"Is it to fit some preconceived notion you guys have? To tell us we have a problem and to come rushing in to "help" us with it?" It was, frankly, a ludicrous assumption.

But it was hard to really question why he'd say it. He was put into a corner and thrust questions he didn't want to be asked, shot with statements he couldn't accept. Who could blame him for acting like that? Who wouldn't blame me for putting him in that corner?

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Gale..." Fable spoke up, her joyful guise faltering as she listened to her other half before turning to the two of us, "I'm sorry. Both of you." She mouthed, her eyes falling to the table as it seemed she realized there was nothing we could do, at least for now.

We failed.

At least this time around. Or maybe that was just my guilty conscience doing its best to rationalize and convince itself we had more chances.

Though, in reality, I had no choice but to believe that.

Gale was in no place to speak as all we did now was stir his thoughts even more, at best making the problem more apparent to him, and at worst, we furthered his denial even further as he became even more avoidant towards the issue.

Compoundingly, Fable was reaching her own emotional limit, as I doubt any of this was a pleasant sight. Holding onto that smile for as long as she did is unquestionably admirable, but one can only keep a bottle closed for so long.

And, of course, there was me. Me and my big mouth. Me and my emotional ass.

Me and all of my regrets.

The chair beside slid back, producing a harsh scratching sound as it glided on the tiled floor, dragging all of our gazes to my partner, who was now standing - her coat drifting onto her shoulders as she donned it in one swift motion of her arm.

"We've got another client coming up." Myla spoke, professionalism returning as she gave me a blank expression against the glittering neon, "We're leaving, Bridger." She finished, her tone not just cold but distant as she turned her back and began walking to the exit.

I could only follow.

I stood up, sliding our seats back onto the table and sporting my coat to venture back into the winter scene - the jacket feeling a little heavier than I remember.

I looked back at our clients - or at least one of them - giving her a downcast look and sincere regret - meant for the both of them, but I doubt the young man wanted to meet eyes at the moment, so I drifted away wordlessly.

I began to catch up with my partner, who slowly treaded out of the intoxicating room, her footfalls contrasting the beat and energy of the place's music. Right as we neared the exit, though, Myla slowed, unnoticeably, as I passed her and only realized when the subtle scent of violas turned into a spiritous odor.

I turned to her, seeing her eyes drift slightly over her shoulder as she soundlessly mouthed something - something that fought her corporate and apathetic goodbye - an apology - before she returned to her stride and exited into the snowscape, the sun beaming through the winter clouds as it painted our faces with its warm rays that conflicted with the harsh cold of the frigid air.

We began to make our way to the car, the sidewalk crackling as each step disrupted the light frost on the concrete. I placed my hand on the door handle - practically freezing my skin as I did - and jostled it open as I more or less threw myself onto the warm cushions of the vehicle.

"This is what I meant." I could hear the driver's door open, and Myla stepped in, slamming the door shut, "This is, to the letter, what I was telling you not to do - Verbatim, what did I tell you not to do?" She interrogated, the car turning to life with a booming rumble that jostled me around.

"...To not say anything I'd regret," I replied meekly, avoiding eye contact like the plague.

"And what did you say back there, verbatim?"

"Do you like, mean all of it? 'Cause I kinda said a lot-" But before I could continue my admittedly embarrassing excuse for an excuse, she cut me off with an exasperated groan as the vehicle sped up through the snow-coat roads.

We stayed quiet for a bit, letting the cityscape and its blanketed inhabitants pass us as I gathered my following words, "...In my defense-"

"Bridger." But I was promptly stopped, "Don't. Not right now, nor after that."

"Right. Sorry." I accepted, breathing in the radiated warmth from the car's air conditioning as I leaned back into my seat.

Before I could get the chance to think, Myla expelled a drawn-out and tired sigh, "Look, I understand you were frustrated," She started, her tone softening, "But it's not our job to get upset for the client's sake - it's just not, and you know that."

"Yeah. You're right. I screwed up - and I'm sorry - for what little that's worth right now." I answered, my regretful tone taking my mind right back to the bar as my mistakes continued to cascade in my mind.

"Good. At least you understand." She paused for a second, her expression wrinkling into a mix of exasperation and sympathy, "It's just..." She stopped mid-sentence before eventually exhaling in disappointment - unable to articulate her blended sentiments.

I messed up.

Bad.

It was as if something welled up inside of me as I spoke to Gale. Something that's been there for so long now - a resentment, an ache of some sort. When I heard his words, it all just came rushing out like a waterfall to a lake.

What I said, I wouldn't exactly call it wrong, but it was the way I said it and the emotions behind my statements that not only angered Gale but also stung me.

Those words weren't exclusively for him, were they?

"Maybe I'm overthinking things, but..." My thoughts were interrupted as Myla began to speak, catching my eyes and ears, "Back there, you saw something in Gale, didn't you? A part of yourself that you'd rather forget. Or perhaps one you haven't forgiven yet."

Ah, she noticed.

"I thought something like this would happen, which is why I said those things a few days ago," She continued, her ever-observant senses not just reserved for our clients, "I didn't want you to hurt Gale, but..."

"But?" I asked as her words drifted into silence.

"...I didn't want you to hurt yourself either, okay?" My partner finally eked out as we both seemed to react in wordless surprise.

Ah, I noticed.

And here I thought she was doubting me or perhaps wanting to make sure I made a good impression.

Which, by all accounts, I did pretty well in. Well, at least at the start.

It seemed there was more to her warnings than met the eye, and while I wouldn't say it out loud for fear of cracking her cold, apathetic mask and unleashing her frigid wrath, I could at least laugh in response.

"Well, you're not wrong." I continued to chuckle as I spoke.

"What are you laughing about? Where'd that regret and sorrow go?" She asked - her earlier unsure mix of emotions turning to pure annoyance as she did.

"On vacation, apparently mockery and endearment are taking over their shifts at the moment." I joked, earning even more chagrin from my lovably teasable partner.

"And, hey, thanks." But even I wasn't so mean as to not show gratitude for a show of care, especially from someone I consider pretty hard to budge when it comes to showing affection.

Myla stayed hushed, and if she was just a little cuter, maybe she would've been pouting - but her flustered silence and faint rosiness was more than enough.

"That aside, you're right." I began, collecting myself and straightening my tone, "This should be an opportunity to prevent what happened to me, not to sulk over it." I added, raising my gaze and sitting up before giving myself a good slap on both sides of my face as I regained a glimmer of motivation.

Myla's eyes widened at my statement, seemingly graced with the same glint as she took a moment to think.

"...Maybe we can do this." She mouthed, her lips resisting the urge to curl into an eager smile as she did.

"Aww, aren't you rather emotive today, my dear partner?"

"Shut up." She shot back immediately.

"Yes, yes." And I took the bullet gladly.

However, amid our exchange, a sharp, high-pitched ring began to emanate from the car's speakers - a call - and as we realized what it was, our eyes landed on the head unit to respond.

"Okay! Just got off the phone with Fable - what in the heck happened back there?" The voice of our leader shouted from the console as his spectrogram spiked with his query.

"A customer service nightmare happened," I replied, getting no laughs from either colleague.

"Might want to sit down for this one, Alex." Hopefully, he did, as Myla retold the fable of our meeting with the two.

"This is gonna be a headache to explain to the higher-ups..." Our young leader remarked as I could see his spirits drop along with the waves of his voice.

"It'll be fine," I commented, drawing out the pronunciation of my final word of reassurance.

"Bridger, you might get fired." He added matter-of-factly.

"Never mind, won't be fine." Once again, drawing out the last word, this time for my sake.

"So, what's the plan?" Myla asked, breaking our worrying exchange.

"Well, based on what I've gathered, it's not like we can exactly leave them alone - there are grounds for counseling here."

"That much is obvious, but..." I began, juggling our options as I dropped my words.

"But?" Alex picked up on my hesitance.

I was about to raise my concerns regarding our continued work with the pair - I don't exactly have a good track record with them after today.

But I steeled myself. The very same reason why I broke down earlier was the same reason I was suited for such a job - and Myla wasn't unfamiliar with these kinds of things either - we shared history in that, after all.

"Nothing, let's do this," I answered, my tone sure as spring follows winter.

"Good to hear then, but before that, you'll need to do some making up." Alex stated, and just from his voice, I could tell he already had something in mind, "And I think we've been given the exact chance to do that."

"And that is?" Myla questioned, picking up on his tone as well.

"Might wanna get your outdoor ensembles for this one, folks." And so he planted the next marker on our map.