A job was a job, and she had done worse for less probably, but it didn't stop her from giving him shit for it. Strangers or not, and her eyes gave him a skeptical up-down, "Yeah? You get to wear a cute uniform?" And her head tilted, eyes clearly obviously lingering on his ass, "Bet you could work heels better than me." A challenge in the casual taunt that laced her voice, how easy was it to get under his skin?
Another long pull on the cigar in her hand, unsure of what part of her made him want to pay more attention and linger. But at least he wasn't calling her a hot chick anymore, shit, she had skipped high school, didn't need teenage attempts at compliments.
"Why? You writin' a book?" She mirrored him, turning towards him, heavy boot hitting the ground, another draw in rapid succession so she could blow it towards him with a falsely sunny smile, "Leave that part out."