Compliment

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"What the hell?" Danny scowled as he rejoined the others behind the fry cookers. "Was that supposed to be some kind of a joke?"

"Never knew Mr. Carter was French," drawled Joe from where he sat sprawled in front of the freezer door. "Wouldn't know it ta lookit 'im."

"Seriously, what does that even mean? Gar-kon? Is that some French insult?"

Shane, currently sitting on a crate of cheese slices that was supposed to be going into the freezer, snorted. "Carter's not French. He's lived here since forever."

"Dammit, what did he say to me?" Danny slammed one fist into his other palm. "Damn Frenchy thinks he can insult me, he'll have another thing coming when I catch up to him in the parking lot and kick his ass -- "

"And get fired from Wendy's for fightin', just like with the last three jobs you worked." Shane idly reached into a hole in the crate of cheese, pulled out a stack of slices, and began munching on them. "He thinks he's bein' all socially responsible or whatever by noticin' burger flippers. Did it to me too the other day, when I was workin' the register."

Danny glared at nothing in particular. "Still could've been an insult," he said sulkily. "I don' even know what it means."

Shane started to answer, then paused. "Just get high and forget about it," he replied finally, tossing the rest of his cheese at the trashcan. "'s practically 4:20 anyway."