”Are you jealous, touka-chan~?” He teased, walking over to the bar and eyeing it with held back dismay. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you out on a date too after this. I have a cute little restaurant in mind, it even serves hamburgers for the uncultured as yourself.”
”Now that our friendly banter is over, where is the manager?”
Physically rearing from the change in proximity would be an admittance of defeat most high, yet the urge gurgles up in her stomach at the soft coo of his timbre – d i s g u s t i n g. His charm is evident though nary such things work on her, the veiled insult he spouts nary so. She opts to fuss forward the cleaning rag, pushing crumbs and other waste in his direction. Small graces, of course.
❝Jealous of that poor thing you conned into a date? No.
And like you could get a date with me if you tried. ❞
Shoulders slump whilst fingers drop away from their duty cleaning to regard the Gourmet with heavy disdain behind coal hue oculi.
❝ He’s out for the moment. You aren’t
welcome to wait, but you probably will anyway.❞