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In Which She Has Sweet Dreams

"What do you want with her?" The distinctly annoying voice which could only be Ryan demanded, and woke me. I realised almost immediately that I had collapsed onto on the floor.

"She has a name, you know," was the snide reply.

"Look, Johnathan-"

"It's Jackson"

"I legitimately couldn't care less."

It turns out that the floor hadn't decided to go anywhere, I'd just decided to test out the strength of Ryan's floorboards during a surprise attack.

'Don't lie to yourself. You passed out because you forgot to eat most of the day, and you were too stressed out for your body to handle. You really need to stop skipping meals. You know it makes you- '

I cut my condescending know-it-all-but-is-never-helpful subconscious before I ended up being upset with it too and tried to listen in on their conversation, but then remembered that I had cake to finish.

I took the time while they were bickering to get off the floor and eat my cake. Jackson and Ryan's idiocy didn't mean that the cake should be wasted. I'll admit, it was possibly the best cake I'd eaten in a while.

The hope that their argument would keep them busy for a while was short lived though, because as soon as I put one forkful in my mouth, the two realized that I'd gotten off the floor and rushed towards me.

"Alexis, are you okay? You hit your head on the table as you fell." Jackson said, feeling my arm...for any bruises, I'm assuming. Honestly, I don't know what he was doing, he was just being weird. Well, weirder than usual.

"Look, I appreciate that you took the time out of your busy schedule of arguing with Ryan to check if I'm fine, but I don't need you to help me, I don't know why you're asking about my head yet you're feeling my arm. If you need an anatomy lesson though, I'd suggest you get your lesson somewhere else from someone who's not me." I said, upset that they'd recovered themselves so quickly.

"That's right, Ryan, she doesn't need you here. You might wanna go check on your-" Jackson started saying, before Ryan punched him in the face.

When Jackson recovered, he looked more stunned than in pain. He then took a step back and tried to assess the situation, but he was too impatient because less than three seconds later he was swinging at Ryan, which I wouldn't have recommended because Ryan was taller and wider than he was.

The two of them were making fools of themselves, fighting for no reason, and people had cameras recording the situation. I felt bad for them, so I tried to stop the useless fight. Except, they somehow stopped fighting before I got to them, so I didn't have to do much except cross my arms and look at them disapprovingly.

"Alright, this is what's going to happen," I said, less than Impressed with their behavior.
"You two are going to sit down and listen very carefully to what I'm going to say. Alright?" I raised an eyebrow as I waited for them to comply with my orders.

"You're being ridiculous. Absolutely disgusting. What exactly are you fighting for? Can you not see that you're acting like dogs with rabies. No, dogs are cute. You're acting like shitfucks. Shitfucks. Yes. You're being so stupid I had to make up a new expletive to describe your behavior.
As I'm speaking, I'm trying to figure out a logical explanation for your fight, but nothing comes to mind except complete stupidity. Idiocy.
Ryan, you're the owner of this restaurant but you're acting like a buffoon. How do expect to keep running a high class, exclusive restaurant with such behaviour? You carry yourself like you expect people to bow down to you, but then you go around fighting for no reason like a member of the rabble."