𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄, 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄, 𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘. - 𝐀.𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐍

STANCE, SERVE, RALLY - Eighteen.

"You feeling better?" Art leant back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest as he observed a ravenous Alaska, who was currently hoovering up the remainder of her milkshake.

"Mm-hm!," She nodded enthusiastically, "I can't remember the last time I had a milkshake."

Even though Art was on a strict nutritional diet himself, he felt sorry for Alaska. She seemed to have it worse - after all, there isn't really anyone closely monitoring Art and everything he does the way Alaskas parents do.

They appeared to have deprived their daughter of the simple enjoyments in life.

She deserved those enjoyments, Art thought.

"Hey. How's everything?" A nearby waitress checked-in, clutching her notepad, "Can I get you guys anything?"

Alaska was too invested in her milkshake to answer, causing Art to grin.

"We're okay, s'all good - thank you." He nodded at the waitress, who gave a smile in return.

Once the waitress had walked away, Alaska removed the straw from between her lips, now frowning at Art.

Art had to pretend his eyes weren't flitting to her lips as she sipped on her milkshake before this, but not for long - he tore his eyes away after a few seconds, the familiar sense of filthy guilt lurked.

"What?," Art had noticed her expression.

"Did you see the way she was practically eye-fuckin' you?" Alaska gawked at Art's oblivion, "It was so obvious!"

Art raised his eyebrows, looking around the diner to make sure the waitress wasn't close-range.

"No, she wasn't," Art corrected Alaska, "- She was just-, just being nice. Checking in and stuff."

"Sure, she was." Alaska rolled her eyes, "I wouldn't be surprised if she wrote her number down for you on the check."

Art furrowed his eyebrows - was he truly that oblivious, or was Alaska making a big deal out of nothing?

"So what if she did? 'Doesn't matter, does it?"

Alaska looked up from her now-empty milkshake cup, that had distacted her for a breif moment.

"What?," She dryly laughed, "No-, I'm just saying she's clearly into you."

"Okay?," Art shrugged, "-And if she was, What do you want me to do about it?"

A smirk played across his lips - now that Alaska had properly eaten and was actively regaining her strength and energy, he felt he could banter with her.

Alaska leant over the table, and Art went mute - he was expecting her to have some rehearsed witty response.

Instead, she wrapped her lips around the top of the straw in Art's milkshake, taking a sip from it before retreating comfortably back to her seat.

Art exhaled once she'd enlarged the distance between them, his expression strained.

"I think we should leave." She deadpanned, looking around the diner for the same waitress to bring them their check.

Soon enough, the familiar waitress approached the table, eager to assist.

But when she'd called her over, Alaska refused to speak - nodding expectantly to Art, who wasn't informed that he'd be having to do this.

"Oh, uh-," He shot Alaska a short, confused look, "-Could we get the check, please?"

Once Alaska and Art had left the diner and were approaching Art's truck, she broke the silence.