[ Clay is running his finger around the base of a martini glass, his other hand resting on a fucking expensive shoebox that's on the table. He eyes the back of a slimming black dress but even that isn't distracting him tonight. ]
Three hundred and fifty seven dollars and seventeen cents.
[ It comes out in a little hiss under his breath-- again-- as he looks around for the thir... probably thirtieth time since 7:40pm when he arrived. That was with the traffic the Uber driver hit, too. The fingers rubbing the glass grip the stem instead as he drains half of the glass with a groan. Fool him once, shame on the mermaid, fool him twice... well. He's just hoping she really wants these shoes at least. ]
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Three hundred and fifty seven dollars and seventeen cents.
[ It comes out in a little hiss under his breath-- again-- as he looks around for the thir... probably thirtieth time since 7:40pm when he arrived. That was with the traffic the Uber driver hit, too. The fingers rubbing the glass grip the stem instead as he drains half of the glass with a groan. Fool him once, shame on the mermaid, fool him twice... well. He's just hoping she really wants these shoes at least. ]