Jael snorted at Holland and raised her eyebrows. “You know me, Holland, I never say please.” She muttered, biting into a sandwich and instantly gagging. “That is disgusting, who the hell eats tuna?” She grabbed a napkin and spat into it, discreetly throwing it under the table. “Honestly, I don’t get why I’m even here, stabbing a fork inside my neck sounds more interesting than this.”
Holland crinkled her nose at the mention of tuna. "Gross. You'd think that if they were trying to make an impression with this shindig, they'd shell out for something edible that didn't smell like ass."
When Jael threw the wadded napkin under the table, she laughed. "There's still time, you know. If you jab a fork into your neck, we can hitch a ride out of here on an ambulance scot-free. Of course, you'd have a fork in your neck, but whatever. Small potatoes."
