Seen and Not Heard

I eye him meticulously - he looks pathetic shuffling over here asking for a job. His "dress" shoes are scuffed and worn, his button up shirt is slightly wrinkled like it was picked straight out of the laundry pile, and the sleeves are messily rolled up to his elbows. If he gave two shits about his appearance, he might actually look okay. IF he tried. This guy isn't even looking up at me. Weak. I smirked a little. What the hell, it could be fun having a dog around to play fetch.
"You'll do fine."
______________________

She held out a piece of paper with her contact info to me using only her index and thumb fingers, like she was afraid we might touch. After I shyly retrieved the paper, she jerked her hand back and smoothed down her pricey dress, and without another word, she turned around, strutting away. As soon as she wasn't looking at me, I let my façade drop and shoved the piece of paper in my pocket, smiling to myself and shaking my head. I'm in. The rest is easy.