Charity stares at him with an admirably even expression, somehow managing to gain the control to hide her expression of horror and embarrassment, even managing her breathing and focus in such a way so as to minimize any flushing that would otherwise be a certainty on her face. This is certainly not what she wanted out of today, and she is far too exhausted to deal with it, still running on those three hours of sleep from a good while ago. But luck isn't on the side of the woman, it rarely seems to be, as she faces perhaps the biggest tool in the building. His smug voice and throaty chuckle makes her want to slap him, but the woman has more control than that, and is accustomed to such expressions and tones. She is a stripper, after all, and what else can she expect from the customers here? It is hardly common to find courtesy from her patrons. Still, the recognition in his eyes magnifies it all, and she can practically see the judgment dancing across that dreadful face of his. Her face remains steely all the same, betraying as little as she possibly can keep back, including the contempt she feels.
However, when he refers to Hope as 'the kid,' something flashes across her face for a moment, and her muscles seem to tense very slightly, sudden anger replacing her embarrassment. The dismissive way in which he addresses her daughter isn't really helping to boost Charity's, for Brandi is now very much gone, opinion of him. And yet, looking over at his companion, Eloise, she recalls her name to be, helps Charity to restrain herself. Something about her embarrassed expression makes Charity feel ashamed, because the woman seems to be embarrassed for her sake. In all honestly, Charity isn't quite sure if that is entirely better. It is something that she can't fault Eloise for, but that makes the feeling of dread knot in the pit of her stomach like a snake that slithered around in a tight space until it was tangled up with itself.
Don't look at me like that, Charity thinks towards the both of them, as though the mental message can somehow transcend the gap between them. It seems particularly aimed towards the faultless Eloise. I'm not ashamed. I'm supporting myself and my daughter, the thoughts sound more as though she is telling herself something, but they aren't entirely a lie. Charity would rather be doing this and supporting her family than forcing her daughter to live on the streets, or having Hope taken away from her forever. This is the far more favorable alternative, as far as Charity is concerned. Don't pity me. That much she must allow Sebastian, in all of his sliminess. He does not seem to pity her. It hardly makes up for his personality in general, but somehow it is more bearable. For once, the familiarity of it is good- because unapologetic slime balls, she can handle. Looks of pity and embarrassment, on the other hand, she cannot.
"I want you to dance for her while I watch." Charity doesn't look either of them in the eye, but her gaze slides over towards Eloise, as though waiting for some sort of reaction. She focuses on her nose, but for the briefest moment allows her eyes to flicker up to meet the girls', which are so filled with remorse and disgust. Disgust that seems to quickly turn towards Sebastian as even Charity can see the invisible line she seems to draw between the two. That simple look holds such emotion that Charity feels as though she is invading her privacy simply by standing there, and that makes her hyperaware of her makeup and hair, which are so foreign to Charity, even if Brandi knows them well.
In a flash, the blonde girl is standing and sweeps out of the room in a silent motion, brushing Charity to the side and shutting the door so that Charity is left alone in the room with him. She turns towards him slightly, body angled away, her eyes focusing as though she is looking at something just behind him, or is staring straight through him. "Her name is Hope," Charity murmurs, before finally meeting him in the eye briefly, her gaze defiant for that moment. "Not that kid," she adds for clarification, returning her gaze to stare straight through him as though he is not there. As though she is alone in the room.