His pants were about halfway to giving up on sitting just right, that was the opposite of cool. That was the literal opposite of being even remotely cool. This acne-riddled teenager was playing the suave cool dude while clutching his fucking camo shorts, and it was the funniest thing in the room. “Hey yourself.” It was instinct. She wasn’t the least bit charmed. Just going through the motions when someone made even the worst attempt at flirting. Allie’s face went red, cheeks puffed, because having to hold in a devastatingly embarrassing laugh was taking all the effort she could muster. “Your belt has given up.” Her tone was the equivalent when mentioning someone’s flies were down.

… She just hoped he got ushered out more quickly.

Brown eyes flicked away when that laugh traitorously slipped out like air from a balloon held to make a squeaky sound, but Allie was sure the boy hadn’t heard. Small mercies, really. The poor kid was probably dealing with a hard life already. The bell jingled again, then a second time when the door clicked shut and the skater gal was now dealing with the Halloween Victorian gentleman of this establishment. Something about Mr. Imp’s inflection made her want to behave. Just a tiny bit.

“Teenagers, huh?” She allowed the tiniest smirk.

“Ah, yes…” She gestured vaguely at the mirror again. “Just browsing, honestly. I-” The edges pulsed once more, drawing her attention from the salesman. Allie almost convinced herself it was a trick of the light hitting the reflective surface.

… Almost.

“Those are built-in LED-strips, right?” Her tone wavered, expression uncertain yet curious. And everyone knew what was said about curiosity and cats.