Summer gave him a narrow-eyed glance, but let it go. He would believe her, or not. It didn’t matter. “My name is Summer.” She tilted her head toward the bartender, and asked, “Why did you do that? It really is simpler not to meddle in their heads.”
Damon shrugged. “I didn’t have an ID. I’m assuming you don’t have one either because there’s no way you’re twenty one,” he said, raising an eyebrow. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “He’s just a human,” he said, shrugging. “And based on how you’re talking, it seems you’re much more than meets the eye.”
Expressionlessly, she pulled out her ID and held it up between two fingers. “Very flattering. /Very/ inaccurate. I would not be sitting here with the remains of a drink already if I was underage.” The bartender put the new drink by her elbow, and she flashed him a grateful smile before turning back to Damon. “Are you sure you want to talk about that here?”
Damon raised an eyebrow, scanning over the ID before nodding a little. “Interesting. I stand corrected,” he said, tossing back the rest of his drink. “Are you not comfortable discussing it in public?” he asked teasingly. “Afraid?”
“I don’t like listening to their confusion. Their disbelief. The fear of the ones who believe,” Summer said baldly. “And I don’t like being eavesdropped on.” She shrugged. “But I don’t like a lot of things, and I deal with them, and it strikes me that going somewhere with you, where I’m not in complete control of the situation, might be a bad idea.” Taking a sip of her drink, she gave Damon a sideways smile.