[Ooooh, that choice of word. "Services." It's so obviously deliberate and yet it crawls right under Gen's skin, prickling with the familiar heat that demands retaliation in the form of flames. She balls her hands up so tight that her nails carve the shape of half-moons into her skin and reminds herself that she's got a sweet deal here, that the only other options are homelessness or back to Xavier's, weighing Mike's life and livelihood against her wounded pride with all that unhinged rage as plain as day on her face.]

I've got some bad fucking news for you, Mike. [Her voice is thin and hoarse from the strain of keeping herself together. She climbs down off the desk and storms right up to him but stops just short of jabbing a finger against his chest - pointing will be good enough, she thinks. He doesn't deserve any contact at all.] All this... isn't what's keeping you from getting fucked. Enjoy knowing from this point forward that it's all your fault, and bitching about it really does make you no better than an incel.

[She needs to burn something. She needs to burn something.]

I'm leaving for awhile. Lock me out and I burn this place to the fuckin' ground, then pin it on you in case you really are part cockroach.

[Okay. With that said, she can walk out of the office and head for the service door of the restaurant. She's saved enough face.]