And people wonder why I cannot find a nice guy when I work here?
Chika shook her head as she did a high scissor kick, catching one of the drunks who was hassling her in the adam's apple, gaining the inevitable appreciative whistle from one of the onlookers in the process for the glimpse of legs that particular move showed.
Oh well, it's hardly the first time that's happened. If I cared that much, I would have hardly gotten a job here. At least I know that whistling is the worst hassle I have to deal with. Chika thought a bit ruefully as she smoothed her skirt back down and started to make her way back to the kitchen, her notepad still tucked firmly in the crook of her arm. Anything else would have been below the manager's expectations. After all, he hired his waitresses and barmaids with the expectation that they could stand with a smile plastered on their face while taking your order, break up a fight wearing high heels and a skirt, and then go back to serving drinks without missing a beat. And Chika needed this job. It was the only job option that had been close enough to feasibly walk to, and the pay was significantly higher than a normal waitress's would be. High enough that she had been able to afford to live somewhere other than her grandmother's house on the wages.
Not that I'm not grateful to her for raising me. I love Obaa-san more than I can say, but I needed my own place. She understood that.
Her introspection was broken as she felt one of the patron's hands touching her leg, far higher up than she normally allowed without an invitation. She turned, her blue eyes sparkling with annoyance, and sent the patron behind the hand a truly glorious uppercut to the jaw that was hard enough to send him flying back three tables. There was a satisfying crash as he hit the table, knocking over all of the contents, and if the man sitting there had been any slower in reacting, there was a chance that he would have been hit by the flying drunk as well. As it was, the man at the table moved just in time to avoid being hit by the jar of sake which had upended off the table and he caught the back of the other man's neck, lowering him to the floor rather than merely letting him fall in an undignified heap like he deserved. She shrugged and went of to get the rest of the drinks.
He was starting to regain consciousness when she returned and she bent down, tucking her skirt under her as she did so. The man blinked opening his eyes, oblivious to the red that was already beginning to show along the shadow of his jawline. He looked at her and blinked again, trying to sit up.
"I think I'm in love," he declared confidently.
"I think you're insane," Chika retorted and hit him again, knocking him back out.