She wasn’t looking to own him, then? To make him get on his knees and beg and grovel and patter around taking care of ever little whimsy? A good girl she was then, someone would be proud to have her. Not that he could share in that appreciation. He didn’t do much groveling to get to the groping anyway. He pretty much gave up doing that a good a bit ago. Or so he thought. After being a finance a few dozen times and having to listen to the bitching and yelling that was involved with being a steady boyfriend and lover he sort of didn’t bother. Getting on your knees and admiring the gal like she was a goddess hardly did much to lessen that anger. If it did? Mhmm, suppose he’d be bowing down. Maybe. Depended. Was the chick hot? What a stupid question, the girl was always hot and he was always kissing ass. Girlies said they didn’t buy flattery but heaven and him knew that it did some. Every girl loved to hear they were beautiful and charming and gorgeous and got a guy sweating and nervous. Every girl, if only because they didn’t believe it themselves that they were truly gorgeous or beautiful and that somewhere, someone, was sweating after every smile they gave or look of friendliness. Yes, women were the almighty rulers of the world but it never ceased to amaze him how they second guessed and criticized themselves so. No I’m fat! No your fat! No, no, no I look like a pig! Please. Girls, look yourself in the mirror. Ya GAWGOUS! You don’t need no damn slip fast and ya sure as hell don’t look fat in that. So vain. As she knew his standards were rather straightforward. Boobs and no extra package… er… down there. Of course, have you, she couldn’t have any of those fabulous STDs. Thank you very much he was clean! Despite the fact he slept around rather much and brought numerous others home with him and all… Well… clean. Sorta. He didn’t have any rabid disease but apparently birth control wasn’t so great at doings it’s one measly task … Good few children were loitering around wondering why they had mommie’s last name. But that was besides the point. They knew who he was. Vaguely. Mommie sure as hell did. Wasn’t his bloody fault the girl tended to disown him and run off on her own accord with a baby in her arms saying she didn’t need him. Or that they tilted their head away in shame that he was the father. Not that there weren’t plenty of other good gals who held out their hand monthly. Freaking kids were lucky he had a job. There damn fault he had to do this (or so he’d say, but normal jobs never suited well with him. He couldn’t get drunk while working or nuthin’). Them and they're pretty big eyes… Mhmm…

Not that it mattered overly so. He wasn’t a father. He was just the one who happened to be in the sheets. And who happened to be willing to dish out the cash like any other responsible bloke. ‘Any other’, made it sound like a common thing. Someone actually paying child support and tending to the needs of the children? Someone actually on occasion picking the kiddo up when mommie was working late? Someone who knew better to stay, for the most part, out of their life? Oh my! A rarity, surely. The marriage thing was a little too complicated. And the father gig a little too hard. Not his cup of tea. Not that he hadn’t been tempted, one never knew how persuasive a woman could be when she wanted something, truly wanted it. When she wanted a man to give up everything, eh, she worked the hardest. And how the gal got all sad and pouting and all when she didn’t get what she wanted. Heartbreaking it was, just heartbreaking. Not that he had any idea why he was bothering with such serious thoughts as he hung out about the building’s alley. Leaning on the wall as he smoked his cigarette. Peering upward at the darkening skies as a little smirk came to his pleasant lips. Ah, the place always did get too fancy for his taste after dusk. Preferred it as the weird little dinner it was during the morning… Then he wouldn’t have to worry ‘bout nothing… Meh… Wonder how she looks. A subtle thought that caused his head to tip, eyes that had pretty much glazed over offering a curious moment as he thought. Reserved? Would she look reserved? Cover her legs any? One could tell a lot about what a girl had planned by what she wore, you know. Even more so by how they wore it. With confidence? Or like a sleezy chickadee? Mhmm… he was curious what the girlie had planned but such was not stronger then his wanting to finish off the little cancer stick of his in the rather crisp, chilly night air. His mind fluttering over the night’s events and his lack of time to change. Suits. He hated suits. Dress slack was his to own, the shoes were fine enough, somewhat scuffed… but… The button up white shirt over an undershirt, even the jacket was there. Aww, didn’t he look snazzy? … More like a monkey ready to do tricks. He had already loosened the black tie and had tried to rid himself of that corner look but, sadly, it failed. Poor darling. She’d be dinning with a guy who seemingly hauled away dead corpses for a living. Which wasn’t quite a fib but… If she had any sense to begin with she wouldn't have asked me to come.

… Nor would have expected him to show. A brow was quirked when he spotted one cab out of many pull up and let out the star of the night. The shiny spangles that made her dress sparking a little chuckle from him, ah, she was very much looking to be noticed, wasn’t she? Aww, I’m just a prop, tonight, baby? A smirk, she could have fooled him when she asked him so to meet her here. But, he knew good and well women were backstabbing little things… mighty capable of taking care of themselves and having, undoubtedly, their own name at the top of their list of priorities. If he was a prop in the very least he might get a glimpse at how the diva cared to work and see who, exactly, she was trying to get envious. And with that he flicked his cigarette to the ground, rubbed it out with the tip of his dress shoe before starting his stroll. A hand going through his dark brown hair, messing with the rather ‘careless’ cut, the watch on his wrist shifting as he heaved one last of lovely night air before entering the ever fine and respectable establishment dubbed, no other then, Garbage. He let himself wander to the table, coming from an area she was blind to he entered the scene behind her, after all he just loved to be a surprise, you see. Bending down as a kiss was placed affectionately on her neck, chill lips taking pleasure in her warmth before he ultimately pulled away to take a sit on the opposite end of the table. “You look beautiful, darling.” he spoke as he took his place, scooting the chair up to the table as his brown eyes examined her cute form with satisfaction, before letting his gaze wander to the… feast before them. “Not as good as me, of course, but… Not interesting in burnt biscuits, pet?” He inquired with a raise of the brow and dry humor and a clear break in thought.

“Ego? I know not of this ‘ego‘ you speak of, m‘darling, beautiful, simply exquisite lady.” he replied with subtle ease. Flirty his tendencies but she already was quite aware of that, and quite aware, also, of how easily they could be batted away. Not that he truly hadn’t pondered a time about his ego. And have decided, honestly, that he didn’t have a very prominent one. If he had an ego he would taken offense. If he had an ego he would be much more violent. His violence, more often then not, was brought upon because he was paid to. His violence, more often then not, was brought upon by boredom. His violence was because of frustration, on occasion, too. Like a child when he did not get his way, or his toy, he threw a fit, was that what one was thinking? They didn’t know him. Simple fact of the matter but that was fine by he. They didn’t have to know him. They could think of him whatever they desired. It would not bother him at all, he lived long enough to have decided, for himself, that he didn‘t rightfully care what others, the onlookers, the outsiders, thought of his life or him. He figured that they had no right to judge, that they had little experience dealing in matters such as ‘him‘ or ‘his like‘. They were not specialist in this field, their opinion had little sway. Anyone, someone, everyone, was only as powerful as a person or people made them to be. If you choose not to give them power then they will have none. But there is more to it then that. Only in a perfect world would things be so simple. There was money, bills, consequence, the like… involved. Did that make any sense? “Not quite.” he answered, a tip of his head, another glance to overdone bread. A shrug of his broad shoulders, on any other occasion but this would he be interested in charred roll. But this was more a special occasion… Or, really, an occasion where he wasn’t dared to.

A brow quirked as the waiter strolled on up, took the mademoiselle’s order, broke his pencil with utmost care then turned his little punkass over to looking dully, yet expectantly at Azure. The gentlemen, or, would-be-but-not-really-gentlemen, blinked, and read the menu over and over again. Debating, it seemed, with clear wonder as he stroked his chin with one of his rather large, calloused hands. Sophistication drenching his pondering state, “To eat, or not to eat, oh, my fair Juliet, so many simply marvelous choices, how could one ever choose?” His voice grew a touch more intense, deeper with more volume. Poetic was his speech, the essence in his tone that of a great actor as he belched the romantic part in a way that said not he was well-versed, but said, instead, that he spoke from his soul. In short, he took on an theatrical approach, dramatizing the scene and prolonging the process of ordering, all the while, and all in mind, doing his best to piss off the waiter, or entertain the man (and her?), either, and, or, really. Mhmm, still, finally the man did order and finally the waiter was off the hook and finally his attention wandered back to the ever wonderland-reminding Alice. Who was smiling a touch? Ah, she smiled a lot, was that because of him or because she was trying earnest to make the most of this… occasion? Or maybe she was practicing a ‘grin and bear it’ technique…? “… You have a favorite color, babes? Blue, red, orange, vio-let?” A rather abrupt curiosity. But he needed to keep the conversation going and he really might as well…