It was always the angry white guys, wasn't it?

Alec was curled up, trying to protect his head with his arms and his stomach with his knees, just waiting for it to stop. He'd run out of trashtalk to say and was mostly struggling not to cry.

You know. Out loud.

The commotion finally made its way back to the kitchen, where the rest of the staff made their way out to stare, horrified.

Cook tried to grab hold of Eliot. "You're gonna thank me for this on Monday," he grunted.