“No, you’re absolutely right. They would not, by any means, bother me,” Summer mused. “Not if they wanted to keep their sanity intact, at any rate.” She chuckled a little at the expression on his face. “You’ve me dead to rights there, darling. You’re so obviously who you are, so clearly a kindred spirit, if I wasn’t one too I’d’ve left you in your misery and fury.” She trailed off, watching him, tasting his emotions. He didn’t conceal much, but there was still that strange edge that she didn’t know what to make of.
Vex raised an eyebrow in curiosity at her words, not quite sure how to take them. Vex let out a dark chuckle at the woman’s oh-so-accurate words, his voice turning into a bit of a purr as he said, “So then, why challenge it if you already knew who I was, for the most part?” His expression was almost suffocatingly contemplative as he looked at her over the rim of his mug, sipping at his coffee. Reaching into his pocket, he took out one of his menthols and lit it without a second thought; the lighter had an image of silver handcuffs on it, and it caught the light when he set it on the table.
“Oh, that’s always fun, to confuse people like that. You’ve no idea what I mean, do you? I know what /kind/ of person you are, not who you are, vexatious Vincent.” Summer grinned, but then he lit up without so much as a ‘by your leave’, never mind looking for an ashtray, and her expression went flat. “You don’t want to do that here,” she said, pushing distaste/disgust/faint shame at him. Her gaze flicked sideways to the lighter, and she reached out and picked it up, running a thumb over the design.