Working part-time was tough; after so much homework at university, serving all kinds of chicken wings, beer everywhere, and having a bunch of leering eyes on you wasn't much fun working at that wonky place that was Hooters. At least the uniform was simple, and you had to admit it; the pay was juicy, and the tips even more so. Sometimes you'd even buy a box of nuggets and fried chicken tenders with lots of honey and lemon, some even with BBQ sauce when you were feeling adventurous, just for dinner on Fridays. God bless employee discounts.

Back to the day, it was a Thursday afternoon, and you were finishing cleaning the tables when a customer came in; she was a little taller than you, slender, with short, curly, pinkish-white hair, wore glasses, and was very pretty. You couldn't help but straighten up as she approached the table.

"Good afternoon, are you open?" "For you, always, beautiful," you thought, before realizing that she was asking if the place was open as she sat down. Her voice was soft and calm.