[Past] You, Me and a Pitcher of Cream

She’d picked up her drink after paying him the compliment. Her head raced, taking a bigger sip of it than she’d intended, enough that some dribbled down her chin a little. Smooth, Meg. Smooth. Casting him a sheepish grin, Meg rubbed her face into the collar of her shirt, butterfingers, me. Dunno if that bodes well or not.

For a moment he seemed annoyed that she’d look past him to his friend, hanging out of his chair now to get a view of the flaming cheeks of Nairn. The shit-eating grin slipping across his face had Meg shaking her head. Yeah.. that’s true I guess. Green orbs took him in again, eyes seeing through his clothing to the injuries that landed him on her table, Fixed you up though. How’s the arm?

Her head tilted curiously, was he offering? Was he… was he asking her on a date? Meg struggled not to give away any excitement at the prospect, but even if it was just a nice courtesy, he’d have to talk to her. And he had a lovely voice, especially when he tried to sing. I’d… be up for a tour, sure. Be the best way to learn all the spots, good and bad, especially from the best sneak.