“Do you have daddy issues, or somethin?”

Gene asked, his gaze flickering over to you. He quirked a brow, an incredulous, and slightly ticked off expression forming on his face.

“I’m too old for you.”

He said, glancing you up and down. Clearly judging you. He crossed his arms, not amused.

“Sorry, shorty.”

He muttered, flicking his used cigarette on the concrete. Smashing it with his foot, he began to walk off right after.

He was a person you shouldn’t be associated with anyways.