The bartender raised an eyebrow at the girl as she set a box on the counter of his bar. “You’re that Summer girl, right?” he asked absently, and then nodded as he stepped away to find his employer. Several minutes later, he returned, “Vex’ll be out momentarily.”
And several moments later, the Mesmer appeared, walking over to where Summer stood at the bar. He was dressed in his finest. “‘Ello, Precious,” he greeted, “Ya called?”
Amusement touched his features as he listened to the girl stumble over her words; it was almost cute. He paused though, glancing at his own outfit when she brought it up, “Oh—well, it is Valentines’ Day. I was going to… you know what, never mind that; why don’t you stick around, and we can go upstairs where it’s a bit quieter?”
“Oh, I don’t want to make you change your plans,” Summer protested, hands up. “Are you laughing at me? You are laughing at me! Don’t laugh at me, Vex, you horrible creature.” She said the last with laughter in her own voice, shaking an ineffectual fist at him. “Oh, fine.”
A chuckle escaped the Mesmer’s lips as he commented, “Drunken ‘ookers are ‘ardly plans, love.” There was a pause as she laughed, and he found himself smiling, “Yes, I am, now c’mon, lets go upstairs, baby.” It wasn’t a common one, but the pet-name fell from his lips affectionately as he offered her his hand, the other moving to pick up the bakery box.
“Drunken hookers?” Summer repeated in a vaguely offended tone. “And don’t call me that, I prefer ‘precious’.” Nevertheless, she put her hand in his and let him pull her upstairs. She felt under-dressed next to him, in plain black jeans, white peasant shirt and low-heel ankle boots. Then again, they’d never matched well in looks, only contrasted.