“Can you believe we don’t get paid overtime?” Ella groaned as she dived onto the couch, absolutely exhausted.

“Don’t even get me started,” Rihana grumbled. “I would make twice what I do.”

“All that extra time, and for what? Absolutely nothing!” She went to the pantry and grabbed a bucket of cheese balls, taking handfuls from the container. “It’s got me upset enough to stress eat!”

“Yeah, it’s the job doing that.” Rihana said sardonically. “What did you work anyway? Was it nightmares or keeping her up all night?”

“Up all night,” Ella said between mouthfuls of cheese balls. “And that’s a bitch to pull off too! Makes me just as tired! I don't wanna work anymore!”

“Just go for nightmares next time,” her roommate shrugged. “It's just easier.”

“Nah, I’m not working any overtime anymore. It’s not worth it.”

“Didn’t all of last year’s overtime make your boss nominate you BED rep of the year or something?”

“Oh yeah, it did. Eh, maybe a few extra hours here and there couldn’t hurt.”

“Yeah, but extra money would be good,” Rihana said, eyeing all the food Ella had bought. “Heaven knows you need it.”

"Hey, hey, I'm a responsible spender," Ella defended.

"Bloody responsible you look, spending your paycheck on cheese balls and oreos," Rihanna retorted.

"Oh yeah? Well..." Ella paused for a moment, trying to think of a comeback. "Well you're British!"

"Great ovservation," she clapped. "Any more, Sherlock?"

"Yes. You hardly touch my grits."

"Even without bulimia, nobody's touching that bloody goopy globs of slop."

"How dare you!" Ella fussed. "Those are an American classic!"

"Well that's why it tastes and looks like shit," Rihanna smirked.

"Ugh, whatever," she sighed, putting the cheese balls down and flopping onto the couch. "Maybe I can ask Aven if I can get extra pay or something. She's nice."

"Nicer than my boss. Rex just pretends like he didn't hear me."

"You gotta ask nicely."

"You think I'm not nice?" Rihanna growled.

"Well..."

"Go on."

"Listen, it's not your fault," Ella said gently. "It's just you're..."

"Finish it."

"British."

"Ah, ok, ok," Rihanna nodded. "You want to know a secret?"

"Um..."

"Americans used to be bloody British."

"Fine, fine," Ella sighed, reaching into her purse and pulling out a bag of chips.

"Do you ever stop eating?" she complained.

"Sure. When I sleep."

“Ok, but where the hell do you get all that food?!” Rihana demanded, pointing at Ella’s pile of crumpled up candy wrappers and chip bags in her purse.

“Oh well, I camped out the vending machines one by one and watched the workers restock them.”

“And?”

“I memorized the codes to open them.”

“Oh my god you’re such a-.”

“Hey, don't say it-" Ella interrupted. "I’m exactly the size I need to be right now,” she defended. “This is my reward for getting back down to my perfect size.”

“Your ‘perfect size’ looks like ‘extra large’ to me.”

“Hmph. Stick.”

“Fatty.”

“Paper sheet.”

“Baggage claim.”

“Grass blade.”

“American.”

“Screw it, I’ve got better things to do.”

Ella turned away and opened a pack of M&M’s, tilting the package upwards and scarfing it down in one go. Rihana looked disgusted, but it could’ve been worse. At least she bothered to not eat the packaging on this one.