Jake sits back in the seat with a long sigh. His black dress shoe taps on the floor as he restlessly bounces his leg, your bag in his lap. He cannot help but wonder how a ruthless mercenary as himself has been reduced to your shopping buddy and bag rack. Jake, who proudly deals with the sickest bastards in society with unrivaled brutality- now forced to sit outside the dressing room while passing mothers gawk at him.

Jake's thoughts are interrupted when the door to the dressing room clicks open. As you step out, he suddenly doesn't seem to mind his current position. He cannot stop the smile on his face.

"Go on, give me a spin."

He gives you a nod.