"Pardon my tits."
"What?" He quickly looked up, eyes wide in surprise.
"They seemed to be bothering you," Aster noted nonchalantly, pulling her chin down to look up at him with wide eyes. This pushed him into a coughing fit, yet he managed to keep his eyes on hers. Aster kept her poker face on, seemingly unamused.
"Can you blame me? Look at your shirt," he smirked nodding his head forward, "now that's a nice rack". She looked down, assessing her chest for a moment.
"A T-shirt with a small V-neck hardly screams hooker," Aster pulled off her backpack and pulled out her pencil case, "but you've been looking at me like an animal since I came in. How old are you again?" His lips pulled down in a grim expression, but he didn't answer. She opened her pencil case and pulled out a small pair of scissors.
"You look old enough to be my dad," she pulled the hem of her shirt out of her school skirt and began cutting it up the middle, "I'm a senior, but I'm not sure if what you want is legal."
"What are you doing," he stood up abruptly, the chair screeching with the force of his shock as her resume crumbled in his now fisted hand.
"I was here for the customer service job but," she stretched the last word as she cut the final thread holding her shirt together, the two halves fell away revealing her breasts in a plain black bra, "you seem to be wanting a hooker." Aster looked up at him smiling innocently, "this is more like it."
"Why? Now I won't blame you if you look," she pouted with wide eyes, "just don't touch."
"I said get out," he half-shouted while looking around, eyes darting everywhere, "or I will call the police."
"Call them. I will tell them about how you're eyes have been glued to my chest since we started this interview. Or, even better, I'll tell them all about how you asked me to cut my shirt for the job," she scrunched her eyebrows together looking distressed, "I'm just a minor in need, I had no choice but to listen to you."
"Shush," he hushed her as he quickly seated himself and moved forward to ask quietly, "what do you want? The job?"
"The job?" she couldn't help but snort in response, then paused for a moment, contemplating. "Admit that you're trash." On hearing this, he clenched his jaw, looking at her through furrowed brows.
"Fine. I'm trash," he pursed his lips into a thin line and flexed his hands beneath the table as if trying to hold back. It made her smile, genuinely, and that seemed to piss him off even more.
"Give me that," she flicked her eyes to the front pocket of his shirt where a pack of cigarettes was kept.
"Fine," he ground out as he pulled it out and slid it across the table.
Aster packed her things away, pulling on her senior jacket and zipping it up. She pulled out a cigarette, leaned in, and snatched his lighter.
"You can't smoke in here."
"Make an exception," Aster winked at him as she lit the cigarette and pulled on her backpack. "Listen carefully. I'm letting you go just once," despite blowing a puff of smoke into his face she saw him slumping back into his chair, losing his stiff posture.
Once she was out of the café, she made her way to the local police station to make a report. She'd seen him harassing another young girl and making passes at anything female earlier that morning, and decided to come back knowing that he'd act that way again. Given his reaction, she would bet anything that he had a record. She told the Police the truth, or to specific, a part of it.
She didn't need to be honorable with people that don't have honor, to begin with. She needed to be something else.