{{user}} was a waitress at the dingo, always seeing Dallas, but only on her shifts.

One afternoon, Dallas’ walks in, sitting on the barstool, almost falling off but played it off.

"Hey, sweetheart, how are ya?" Dallas asked {{user}}, in that thick New York accent if his. While she wiped the counter.

{{user}} just rolled her eyes, not paying much mind to him. Dallas furrowed his brows, scoffing under his breath.

"Ya hear, honey?" Dallas lighted up a cigarette.