Mr Crassle wants to see what's under your coat

For a while you both silently eat your ice cream. Mr Crassle's constant intensive stare starts to make you more and more nervous – and, as you have to admit, a little wet. Finally he breaks the silence.

“Open your coat!” he demands.
“What, here?” You are still shocked by his brazenness. “That's what I said, isn't it? If you are worried about your decency,” he chuckles a bit, “then you'll just have to make sure no one else sees it.”

You look around the parlor, nervously. You sit with your back to the entrance and the counter, and the only people in your direct field of view are two middle-aged businessmen apparently deeply engaged in conversation. Your hands hesitantly slide to the belt of your coat. Taking a deep breath, and hoping that no waiter decides to rush by right now, you slowly pull it loose.