Salem thinks he knows how this goes. After all, it's not the first time he's gotten people who think he doesn't know what he's doing, and he's sure if he didn't look like a Hot Topic reject people might stop treating him like a kid, but still...

He doesn't manage to get out another wisecrack before the woman starts counting out bills. Lots of bills. Big ones. He also gets the very distinct vibe that snatching the dosh and running would mean trouble, so he stays put, and stops smiling.

Twitchy guy, by the time he gets announced, is more or less the only guy left in the diner. Everybody else has gotten up and quietly made their way to the exit. They were hoping for shitty late night food and some peace and quiet, presumably, and they all left for somewhere else to find both.

So, there's Salem and Twitchy Guy, locking eyes. They stare for a bit. Salem eventually swivels the seat around, for a proper view.

"Man, c'mon. Seriously?"

Twitchy Man gets a little more twitchy, nods, looks a little ashamed. Not expecting a call-out, presumably. Salem, on the other hand, gives the slightest of grimaces and flips him the bird. "Fuck off, then. Go on, fuck off, I've had a shit night."

Twitchy does not fuck off. What he chooses is to pull his gun from under the table and fire it three times. In quick succession, each bullet slows to a crawl, turns around, and finds purchase in Twitchy's left shoulder, right shoulder, and right ear, sending him sprawling into the cushioned booth he'd previously been sitting in.

Salem, with the bird still raised in front of him, leans his head to the side to check on the man's condition.

"Ah, he's having a worse one, I think."