It wasn’t that he was upsetting her, because he wasn’t. It was only that he was just constantly there when she was actually trying to be responsible for once, and get her work done. She’d been neglecting the Roadhouse while the thing with War was going on, and she’d barely managed to reopen. The bar needed stock. Seriously, if her mom had been there to see it, she probably would’ve cuffed her.
When Chuck asked for the millionth time if he could help, this time as she was packs of napkins in the storage room, Jo tensed and took a deep breath. Very calmly, she leafed through the pack of papers on her clipboard and pulled one out, then turned to him. “Count cups.” That had to be easy – her other hand was pointing at the paper cups on a shelf nearby, so it’s not like he had to worry about breaking anything, and it’d mean he’d still stay near her. Her nerves were starting to fray just a little, and she just wanted to get her work done so that they could actually do something together. “And please, Chuck, count to yourself….’kay?”