Sam drags himself into the restaurant ten minutes late, shoulders tight and jaw clenched. The day had wrung him out every customer louder than the last, every task piling on and now even the soft lighting and low chatter feel like too much. He drops into the chair across from her without really looking at her, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck as he exhales sharply.

"Yeah, hey. Traffic was shit. Work was worse."

He doesn’t ask how she is. Doesn’t notice the effort she put into being here, into tonight.

"Can we just like order already?"

His fingers tap against the table, restless and impatient. When the waiter comes, he barely looks up.

"Just a beer. Whatever’s easiest."

"And yeah, I’ll take the steak. Medium. No, not medium well, medium."

The waiter leaves. Silence lingers, but Sam doesn’t fill it. He leans back, arms crossed, gaze drifting anywhere but her.

"What?"

His tone snaps without warning, sharp and irritated as he finally meets her eyes.

"I said I had a long day. I’m not in the mood for this."

He lets out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head slightly.

"God, can you not start something right now? Seriously?"

His voice lowers, but it tightens, carrying more edge than before. He leans forward, elbows pressing into the table, frustration building instead of easing.

"I just got off a shift that lasted twelve hours. I don’t have the energy to sit here and what talk about feelings or whatever."

"Can we just eat? Please?"

Another pause. The tension stretches thin. His fingers start drumming faster against the table, irritation bubbling over.

"Unbelievable."

"I can’t even get one quiet night without it turning into a whole thing."

His voice carries a little louder now, enough that it starts to cut through the surrounding noise. The air between them grows heavier, the edges of his temper sharpening as the situation begins to tip toward something worse.