Ashburn
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Ash sadly finished cleaning up the table and gestured at the hostess that the table was now ready. Cleaning the cheap vinyl had been fairly easy, but the table was another story. The wood table had gouges in it that were the bane of his existence and they had been filled with the dressing from the pasta salad. That had taken a full ten minutes to get clean and his hands now smelled strongly of cheap vinegar dressing. 

With a sigh he looked up at the clock and saw that he still had 50 minutes left on his shift. The thick smoke was making his breathing even more harsh and his joints were up in arms over being used, especially his back. He stuffed the soiled clothe back into his apron pocket, and started walking towards his other tables. Before he made it to his next table he saw Eric, and he didn't look good at all. Sweat had begun to creep on his brow and his eyes were open with fear. 

Ash's heart began to race as he recognized what was happening, as he had seen it before. Slowly, trying to hide his own fear he gently approached Eric with a gentle smile. Gently he wrapped his arms around Eric in a soft hug.

"Just focus on the present your fine." He said in a calm measured tone, wavering slightly from his own worry "You are at work like always. And everything is calm. You're doing great. Just focus on the present."

Ash repeated the mantra "Everything is fine. You're alright. You're doing great Eric. Just focus on the present." A soft southern accent revealing the concern he had for his friend.

He felt a little awkward standing there hugging a guy in the middle of the diner and speaking like that. He wasn't ever sure if he was doing something right. All he knew was that a book he had read said someone close to him should do something like this when someone was panicking. Ash definitely didn't feel like they were close, work friends at best, but he was very concerned about him none the less. 

His gentle heart and desire to help people had earned him a nickname when he was little. His mother would always call him "Mon Ange", French for "My Angel". The thought of this brought a tear to his eye, as he remembered his mother. About a month ago she had died in the hospital, a painful death that no doctors could figure out. Her nickname for him seemed somehow tragic, since he had not been able to do anything to save her.