Looking up and encountering his wife's stunned expression, Matthew jerked impulsively, and in doing so plunged the chunk of raw fish into the girl's mouth. Her eyes snapped open, and she made a revolting sound. Her hands flew to her throat. She was choking.
Matthew struck the girl sharply on the back, and with a great popping cough, the pink thing flew from her mouth into her cupped hand.
Seeing that the girl's airway was free, Matthew turned to his wife. Getting up, his napkin fell into the tray of sushi. As he reached for it, his feet encountered an obstacle, and in an effort to prevent himself from crashing through the window, he caught the edge of the table, managing to tip over their mugs of tea, as well as knock most of the remaining sushi onto the floor.
"Sit down, Matthew," Greta said with a disgusted flap of her hand. She gave him a look. "I must say, darling, I'm very impressed with your technique. I would have thought you'd need a hook to catch this sort of fish."
The girl sucked deep gulps of air, alternating her wide, watery-eyed gape between husband and wife.
"Poor thing, so sorry you don't care for the selection," Greta said with a pout. "I think there's some more on the floor. Go fetch, dearie."
"Greta," Matthew snapped, "close that door!"
"Oh, relax, Matthew. This will only take a minute. However," she said, seating herself in the pit across from them, "I'm not leaving until I see this live one swim through a hoop and catch a chunk of that bait in the air."
Matthew glared at his wife as she opened her purse and withdrew the pink bank form.
"This is Laurence Maupin," Matthew said, attempting to explain himself. "She's my public relations assistant."