"If ya's aren't the stripper I ordered.. what the fuck are ya doin' at my door step?" [I don't know what this is, but have it.]
big fucking yikes! this was definitely, definitely the wrong choice in house to approach. just her luck too, to be greeted by someone as scary as him when all she wanted was just some help with her car ( and if that wasn’t possible, then a charger or a phone call would have been just as nice seeing as how her phone had died along the way ). peering up at the other, she’s at a loss for words despite knowing exactly what she was doing at his doorsteps.
was she going to address the stripper situation? no, but – that was definitely a first, being asked if she was a stripper. “i, uh –” and she points behind her, a vague indicator of where her car was in the distance. “yeah, uh – i’m trying to go home. and my car gave out. i don’t – i’m sorry to bother you. i can, i can go somewhere else and bother another person, sorry –” and she’s already backing up from his front door, a hand held up to dismiss herself. please don’t hurt her, she’s fragile.
