A Day’s Work at a Cafe

"Can I also get your number?" A girl asked with sparkling eyes. She was one of the students of the Stronvile University of Arts.

"My number's not for sale, ma'am." Compass Carburettor smiled, as usual, saying, "That'll be 348 bucks."

"Fine," The girl was mildly disappointed as she handed over the cash, receiving her receipt as she returned to her table, whispering to her friend, "I felt like my heart would burst. He's really handsome."

"Right," Her friend nodded in response, her cheeks slightly reddened, "But, no matter who asked him, he never gave out his number."

"Someone that handsome must have been hit on by many women. He won't give in so easily." Another of her friend chimed in, saying, "If you simply ask him for his number, he won't give it. No sane person would hand over his number to a stranger, right?"

"Then, are you saying you can do better, Kehra?" The girl asked her in response.