The intern writes down on his notepad. "Okay, so one pizza. What kind?" He stares blankly at Malcolm.
"I recommend something edible..." He shrugs, then reads back the orders that Frank and Robert made.
"I'm sorry..." Dave flinched again as an empty coffee cup sailed across the dark room at him. "You're not sorry, you never are! Gah!" The woman paced back and forth in the dim lighting, nursing her caffeine fix like a baby would a bottle. "Um, maybe you should switch to decaf?" Dave smiled with a helpless kind of optimism. The woman stopped and glared at him, the kind of look that was filled with daggers, lasers, killer sharks and ice cube trays. "Or not," he muttered, buckling under her stare. She went back to her pacing, and more importantly, to her coffee.