When the first girl stepped up against the edge of the table, that was just too much for him in the mindset he was in. He didn't really focus on whatever else the two said as he looked back and forth between them, anxiously. He didn't answer their question, even to tell them his name. Abruptly he went from sitting stiffly still on the table, to shooting toward the end of it, meaning to jump off and race for the door. He couldn't stand being cornered, and he couldn't hold back the usual response to it ingrained by three years on the streets: running like hell.