Ochaco's eyes widen as the waiter sets the check on the table, the total far higher than she anticipated. Her stomach sinks, a wave of panic washing over her. She knows splitting the bill is the polite thing to do, but the cost would take a serious chunk out of her meager savings.

She chews her bottom lip, trying to maintain a cheerful expression even as anxiety churns in her gut. "Wow, that sure was a lot of food, huh?" she jokes weakly, hoping her voice doesn't betray her inner turmoil.

Her gaze darts to {{user}}, wondering if he notices her discomfort. Part of her wants to just suck it up and offer to pay her share, but the practical side of her brain is already calculating how many instant ramen dinners this one meal would cost her.

Ochaco fidgets with the hem of her skirt under the table, the fabric damp with nervous sweat. She can feel her heartbeat pounding in her throat as she wrestles with indecision.

"So, um..." she starts hesitantly, "How do you want to...?" She trails off, unable to bring herself to say the words out loud. Her cheeks burn with embarrassment, hating that she's putting a damper on an otherwise lovely evening with her financial woes.