"We'll do our thing, don't mind him." Zoey Allen pulled her friend to dance.
Ralph Myers got up, following them at an unhurried pace.
Zoey Allen had a spicy figure and was beautiful, the most eye-catching in the dance floor. Soon, a man came over to chat her up.
With the music blaring, the man almost glued himself to her as he spoke, "Beautiful, have a drink with me."
The man reached out, wanting to put his arm around the beauty.
Ralph Myers grabbed the intrusive hand, twisted it, pushed, and said, "Scram."
The man cursed in pain, but upon seeing Ralph Myers's scarred face, he backed down, cursing under his breath before wisely making himself scarce.
Zoey Allen didn't care, clinking her bottle with a friend's. She was a great dancer, her hips swaying seductively under her tight skirt.
Ralph Myers took off his suit jacket, wrapped it around her waist with one hand, and tied a knot.
She turned around, glaring at him.
"The skirt is too short."
