"Wooo, Fox-y La-dy!!!" Saffron's shoulders tensed for a moment, then slowly drew downward, arms nestling in more securely into her bolero. The back of her knuckle graze a few of the objects hidden in her sleeves, just to check, while her hands emerged to hold down next to her, knuckled turned out, palms open. Her back leg shifted, just enough for her hips to angle along the horizontal axis and pivot her eyes around, and easy tilt to catch the ice blue, sleepy stare hidden beneath the ragged, brick red baseball cap with a mallard embroidered at the front. He looked around 25-26, hard-lived. Drunk, possibly alcoholic. Faded tattoos on his neck and his knuckles. Cabela's T-shirt, green cargo shorts, work boots tied loose around thin ankles. Thin, with a little bit of a gut forming, smell of tobacco going back for months. "Hey, lemme talk to ya, Foxy Lady!"
"Hey!" Her chin ticced up as she turned, squaring off her shoulders to his, arms spreading out just a bit, settling into that functional range to puff up her form, while her legs inched to double-shoulder width, rooting her stance and settling her jarred nerves through the repurposed Converse soles. Her voice went low, slow, but even-keeled, clearly heard throughout the block, but without any hint of agitation. "Show some respect, Guy with a Duck Hat."
The man's stride to cross the street ended abruptly, jolting him to a halt. His own body language tensed, from his tail bone to the top of his head, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly before he could manage to crack out a response. "Nduh-uhr.. I--I.. I'msorry!!!" He turned around on his heel and ducked back to his side of the street, scrambling to turn around the intersection and away from the redhead's assessing stare.
She tilted her head to the side, checking to see how far down the block he was, and settled in with a sigh, shaking out and returning to her stride through the West End. "That went... better than it could have..."
((check out resources and tips for responding to Street Harassment at http://www.stopstreetharassment.org/ ))
"Hey!" Her chin ticced up as she turned, squaring off her shoulders to his, arms spreading out just a bit, settling into that functional range to puff up her form, while her legs inched to double-shoulder width, rooting her stance and settling her jarred nerves through the repurposed Converse soles. Her voice went low, slow, but even-keeled, clearly heard throughout the block, but without any hint of agitation. "Show some respect, Guy with a Duck Hat."
The man's stride to cross the street ended abruptly, jolting him to a halt. His own body language tensed, from his tail bone to the top of his head, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly before he could manage to crack out a response. "Nduh-uhr.. I--I.. I'msorry!!!" He turned around on his heel and ducked back to his side of the street, scrambling to turn around the intersection and away from the redhead's assessing stare.
She tilted her head to the side, checking to see how far down the block he was, and settled in with a sigh, shaking out and returning to her stride through the West End. "That went... better than it could have..."
((check out resources and tips for responding to Street Harassment at http://www.stopstreetharassment.org/ ))