Pickles and Thin Mints

"For the last time, Molly, you can't rearrange the comics based on how revealing their costumes are!"

"Why not? That's all your customers care about anyway!" Molly slid a busty copy of Spiderwoman to the front of the rack.

"Why do you even come here? Just to bother me? I know for a fact you don't care about comic books."

"Now that's not true. I love Super Dude and Batsy-face," she paused as Gerald's palm met his face, "and you know how much I love Team Titans."

"TEEN Titans. TEEN. You're doing this just to annoy me."

"Well, it's not my fault. You're pretty damn easy to rile up."

Molly tossed an issue of some a little known comic at the counter. Gerald grabbed it just before it slid onto the floor. Gerald was used to his former sister-in-law wrecking havoc, but he didn't find it fair for her to do it in his place of business, especially since they weren't even in-laws anymore.

"Ya know, Benny thinks you're messed up, too. You get stressed too easily. Take a break. Pop a chill pill and leave the store in the very capable hands of-"

"Who?" He snorted. "You?"

She looked at him. "I was going to say Bobby."

"Bobby can't keep his eyes awake during his shift. He's lucky I don't fire him."

"Hey, you don't fire family."

"I'm not your family anymore." He said before disappearing to his office.

She watched his cape brush the doorway as he left. "Lucky bastard."

She spun the racks around, their creaking echoing through the nearly empty comic book shop.

"You've got to get more butts in your store," she called to him.

"Would that I could, but I can't help that it's been slow lately," he replied before reappearing behind the counter.

She debated between Catwoman or Wonder Woman, but ultimately opted for putting Catwoman's deep V-neck on display. "It's your funeral."

Gerald sighed. "Please don't say that. You'll jinx it."

"Jinx it? What, are you having money troubles?"

"Bob pissed off the landlord and we're behind on the rent, so it's not looking too good."

She turned her head with half-lidded eyes, suggesting pointedly, "Why don't you just dust off the arcade equipment downstairs and reopen the Game Space?" then continued flipping through an issue of Suicide Squad.

"Because, Mo, it costs money to repair those machines and keep them running, and I know you don't know this," he walked over to her, "but money does not grow on trees." He snatched the comic from her hands. He turned away from her glare and restocked the comic with the rest. "Now, if you aren't going to buy something, which I doubt you are, then get out."

She huffed and turned on her heels to leave. She swung the door open, making the Open/Closed sign smack against the glass. "Now I know how you keep scaring off all the customers."

"Don't slam the-" she cut him off with the hard clinging of the bell smacking the glass. "-Door." He sighed and started wiping down the counter, a growing past-time of his.