Don't I Know You from Somewhere...? (T-M, language, adult content,etc; Private)

Ezra laughed the first deep, genuine laugh of the day, eyes briefly carrying an unfamiliar warmth to them. "You are a ball of temptation, doll, and I am not quite so strong of will." He lifted his glass, nodding to her and downing the glass, eyes still fixed on her. "I would like to think I'm not quite a phantom, at least."

A shrug followed, though she leaned forward, almost, almost unaware of how her babydoll style polo and push-up bra made her cleavage almost too obvious to ignore. Elbows hit the bar, arm laying across it while the opposite hand held her chin. "No, you appear very much alive and well."

"I would be a little less well, had this insipid bartender not cut off my whiskey." He laughed, leaning forwards on the counter top and brushing some hair from his eyes. "I suppose I should thank you for it, though it isn't common for me to thank anyone for taking away my drink."

With one hand, she pulled his soda glass back, spraying another round of Death Dew in it and pushing it forward. "Technically, I just switched drinks." She granted him a quick wink, golden eyes shining behind thick lashes. "Was that really so bad of me?"

"Admittedly, I am a creature of habit." He took the Death Dew without complaint, not bothering to take note of how many he had drank. "That said, I'm always willing to deviate for a...worthy cause."

"Besides not wrecking my bar?" she asked, raising a brow, though she pushed off from the smooth surface to exit the area just as another of her girls came in, polo tank pristine, name tag shining at her shoulder. "I think that alone is a reasonable enough ideal." She winked at him nonetheless, coming over and sitting beside him, leaning her arms back against the bar as she did so.

"I have yet to do a dollar's worth of property damage in a bar," he shot, sipping his drink. "That said, I've done considerable damage to a number of bar patrons. But they punched first, honest." He raised a fist, extending two fingers. "Scout's honor."

"Were you even a scout?" She inquired, brow raising, eyes skimming him up and down, clear disbelief radiating from her.

"Four years," he admitted, smirking at the obvious disbelief in her eyes. "I could never quite earn the teamwork badge on account of failing the final test." He shrugged, waving the new waitress for another round of fries. "Much appreciated," he said curtly, nodding before turning back to Rose. "My brother and I made a considerable pair and they were quite intent to usurp that combination."

Intrigued, she continued to watch him, observing body language as he spoke, "How so?" She inquired, nodding for the tender, who promptly rang up mozzarella sticks as well. Brother? She questioned towards herself, silently whistling at the hellish genetics that were seeming intent on undoing her... and her shirt buttons.

He coiled a bit, mentally constructing the sentences that would follow to a restrained answer. "He and I have always stuck with each other. We know the good and the bad of one another, so we know what to cover as far as watching each other's back." He shrugged, giving a small nod of gratitude as his fries came sliding to a stop in front of him. "Most others won't deal with my...what was the word they used...abrasiveness?"

Sandpaper. She noted the word idly, shrugging. "My sister and I are much the same way." She tapped the bar as her own appetizer slid to a halt, dipping the first in marinara on one end and ranch on the other. "And the end goal was to make you more personable, I presume?"

"But of course," he said curtly, tossing a fry into his mouth. "My dad said it would help my brother and I build character. If irony was made of water, I would have long since drowned in it."

She allowed herself to laugh at this, shaking her head and eyeing him curiously. "What happened instead?"

"I gave direction as I saw fit and didn't deal with insubordination. One kid decided that I had insulted him and insisted that I had an urgent meeting with his fist. Thus, I decided his balls had a date with my knee. His friends weren't overly fond of that." He couldn't help but laugh, the memory still clear as crystal in his mind.

Rose brought a hand to her mouth, knowing that to laugh was to encourage his actions, but the sheer phrasing of it alone was comical. She shook her head, locks of hair falling forward and away from their pins as she hid the growing smile on her face.

"So there I was, backed into a corner by the three stooges after I had just made their baritone friend sing soprano. They probably would have beat my ass, honestly...until Harrison hit one of them with a tree branch he had found while we were hiking."

A slight, giggled snort escaped her, face turning red behind her flaming hair. "And I assume that was enough to diffuse the others?" She asked, fighting the amusement out of her voice.

"Hell no," Ezra said, incredulous. "If I hadn't guaranteed a fight, Harrison had. But like I said, we knew each other. It wasn't pretty, but we managed to take that fight. Afterwards, we were promply dismissed from the Scouts. Surprise, surprise."

Rose's eyes rolled; of course a group of young boys would have a 'take on the world' mentality. It was a shame that it rarely ever was curbed with the caution of reason. "And would you say that makes you an honorable man?"

Ezra laughed, despite himself. "I never argued that I was an honorable man. My brother, I can readily admit, would earn the compliment. I just try to live my life without stirring up the pond too much. If someone gets in my way, I go around them. If they push me back, though..." He let the words trail off, unsure of how to finish the statement. "I won't take unnecessary crap from people, but I won't give it either."

She took the opportunity to lean towards him, brow raised, clearly too close for the average person's comfort but not so close as to make it blatant. "Then how am I to trust a scout's honor of an dishonorable man?"

"You don't," he said simply, leaning in to match her. "But you can trust a dishonorable man to act in his own best interest. And you've kept me very interested thus far." His eyes had cooled to a softer gaze, not entirely void of intent, but he allowed a smile. "My brother would never allow me to be a fully-fledged degenerate. I'm not interested in cultivating enemies."

"What are you interested in?" She asked, breathing in the space between, breathe link mint and cinnamon spiced whiskey. Her arms rested on her thighs as she leaned, watching him all the while, sizing him up and very clearly eyeing his appearance, now.

"Interesting question," he said with a slight, ponderous edge. "I love being on the move. Driving, running, climbing...I don't do well to sit still. That said, music is the easy way to pacify me." He tapped the table top with his fingers, mentally recounting his own interests. "My Chevelle. Kickboxing. You are quickly climbing that list," he said with a nonchalant shrug, downing another glass to fill the silence.