But retracting her gaze, her eyes fell on Zachary Armstrong walking ahead, and Shirley Fisher couldn't help but roll her eyes again.
This man really doesn't care about clothing at all!
Nowadays, when the weather is cold, Zachary Armstrong was wearing a black long-sleeve T-shirt inside, covered with a black cotton-padded jacket that had no style or appearance; the material really couldn't be seen. He wore black casual pants on the lower half and had a pair of old army green cotton shoes worth about twenty bucks on his feet.
Adding to that the ten-buck blue sunglasses on his eyes, as soon as he went upstairs, several gazes from the surrounding area immediately projected over.
The waiter came forward, glanced Zachary Armstrong up and down, slightly furrowed his brows, and walked ahead leading the way with an attitude that was somewhat indifferent and disdainful.
"No private suite available, you guys just sit here." The waiter stood in front of the table and spoke indifferently.
