Dick Move

Some semi-regulars come into the store one afternoon. These semi-regulars fall squarely into the revolving door-late fee variety, in that they perpetually owe Fernando money, pay off a fraction of what is owed whenever they come in to rent, and end up just about right back where they started because the things they'd just rented are late. This was never a value too-too absurd in scope, and these people, for all their perpetual tardiness, were good about making slow headway on the damn thing and even had short spans of time in which they were free of any debts owed to the Dominion and its Keeper.

The last time they had rented, though, they'd been much later than usual, and their late fee had blossomed as a result. When the pair approaches the counter with their tag in hand, Fernando asks, “Did you want to put something down on your late fee?”

“How much is it?” asks the female half of the duo.

“It's--”

“God I probably don't even want to know.”

“--Twenty-eight altogether.”

The other one of them looks at Fernando with disbelief writ across his features. “You're shitting me.”

“Afraid not, sorry. The last time you were in you kept, what was it, Breaking Dawn 2 out for nine days. And you still had a little bit of late fees from before.”

The first one looks down at the money she had placed upon the counter, six dollars in total. “That's all I've got on me. Put that towards it I guess.”

“That can be arranged. We can nibble away at it. I've got no problems with that.”

“Twenty-eight fucking dollars,” the other repeats, probably to himself. “At this rate I should just not come here anymore.”

Fernando chose to believe the latter sentence was addressed to the three gathered people at-large, so he had leave, nay, obligation to respond. He does this with his usual tact: “Frankly, that would be a little bit of a dick move.”

Both of them look in Fernando with absolute shock. The Keeper shrugs. “Just saying.” He takes the money resting upon the counter and places it in the till.