I turn to Zaniel, who has never look so scared. I don’t understand his fear. Maybe because I don’t feel scared myself. I didn’t expect him to defend me — people rarely do. If I was more sober I’d be more fearful of rubbing a guy like this the wrong way. It’s easy to guess what sort of crowd he hangs around. But right now, I’m not afraid of anyone or anything. “Are you?” I ask him. “Are you ‘his’? You really want to leave with him?”

Zaniel swallows. “No.”

“Then, don’t,” I say quietly, taking his hand in mine again. He relaxes. Even smiles a little.

“Oh hell, no,” Akki curses. “This stops NOW.”

He grabs my shoulder and starts to pull. I’m livid. I don’t know what he expects to happen, but this being the third time a man has put his hands on me this week does not sit well. I writhe from his grip and elbow him right in the chest. “Don’t TOUCH ME.” It’s not enough to do much damage, but it does throw him off-balance. He topples against the table.

Something else topples with him. It must have been in the folds of his haori jacket. A small pinkish-grey sphere rolls under the lips of the empty plates and comes to a stop against the soy sauce holder at the end of the table. A large brown circle points right back at me.

It’s an eyeball.

“What the hell …?” Zaniel asks, equally horrified. “You … you’ve been …”

Akki’s voice is deadpan. “Oh, don’t look so shocked.” He reaches for it and straightens himself up. “Geez, you and Hino are two pages out the same damn book. Killjoys.”

I’m locked into my seat, gripping the leather, focusing my gaze on something — anything — so I don’t scream, or vomit, or pass out. There was a fucking eyeball on the table.

“How long …” Zaniel’s voice is hoarse. “How long have you …?”

“Like it matters. Geez. Now, are we gettin’ out of here, or you gonna hang around with this … thing?”

“Thing?!” I start, but Zaniel is suddenly shoving me out of his way to slide out of the booth. I’m about to yell at him, too, until he pushes me behind him in a protective stance.

“Zaniel-kun, geez.” Akki looks mildly entertained. “Don’t run over the girl. Someone’s gonna think you got the shits.”

“Akki-sa—” he pauses. The silence hangs in the air like a dagger. Then it drops. “I quit.”

Akki is still smiling. He waves his hands like he’s talking to an unintelligent child. “No, dummy. I didn’t say ‘quit,’ I said —”

“I QUIT.”

Everything stops. The servers, the dinner talk, the karaoke singers. It feels like everyone is frozen in various poses of stunned awkwardness. “I’m done. Finished. This —” he points between himself and Akki “— is over.”