The encounter leaves him feeling...well, unsettled. Talk about your bad first impressions. But it's not until he finally distracts himself with the task at hand that he remembers her name--Sybil Reisz, a name commonly thrown around in the realm of the fashion district, but she wasn't...a model, or a designer, or even some talking head. She just was.
He only dabbles in fashion headlines, though, so he doesn't sweat it too much.
With his grocery bags firmly attached to the back of his chair, Boxer is busy texting someone as he rolls himself out of the grocery store, coming to an unexpected halt when he runs into a certain pair of metal high-heeled shoes. He startles when he looks up at her, but the fright disappears when it turns into anger.
"Look, lady. I might be one of the more--" he throws up air quotes, "exotic monsters you've seen...and that you're some big-wig fashionista or whatever. That doesn't give you the right to stalk me."
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He only dabbles in fashion headlines, though, so he doesn't sweat it too much.
With his grocery bags firmly attached to the back of his chair, Boxer is busy texting someone as he rolls himself out of the grocery store, coming to an unexpected halt when he runs into a certain pair of metal high-heeled shoes. He startles when he looks up at her, but the fright disappears when it turns into anger.
"Look, lady. I might be one of the more--" he throws up air quotes, "exotic monsters you've seen...and that you're some big-wig fashionista or whatever. That doesn't give you the right to stalk me."