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"I am the head of the Whisper family mafia." Quite the claim to put on a dating profile. But it'd sparked Spencer's interest at least. He'd never dated a mob boss before. Alright, honesty time, he didn't get many dates. Was it the horns? The teeth? The hair? The markings?

Ahh hell, that wasn't honest. Honest was that most people just didn't want to put up with him. Still, he hoped there'd been a picture sent to her, or something. Probably hadn't been. After all, she'd said she wanted a man that looked good next to her. And if she'd seen him...

What the ********? One blind date and he was turning into a damned angsty teenager again. Deep breath. So it might not work, and he'd never get to screw a mob boss. He'd live to die another day.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he studied his reflection in the glass of the cafe window before entering. He'd done his best to dress up. Clean blue jeans, new black shirt, with buttons and everything. He did not appear to be glowing, at least not noticeably. Thank god for daylight. Alright then. Time to take this date on!

He grinned at himself, a feral expression, and moved into the cafe with an impatient, loaping sort of walk. Not exactly his sort of place, but what the hell? Maybe he could talk her into taking him to her mob restaurant. Mob bosses ate Italian food, right?

The place was empty, which meant he was early, as usual. With a shrug, he found a seat at a center table, and waited.

Holy s**t, she was a mob boss. Looking up at the sound of the door opening, he had to catch himself to keep from staring. Whether it was the suit or something in Dom's expression, no matter. Any lingering doubts that Spins had on the subject were cleared up the moment she walked into the cafe.

God, this was going to be fun. He kept his eyes to himself by continuing to fiddle with the coin he'd been running over his fingers until he'd seen her enter, his attention firmly fixed on the bit of silver as it moved over his hand. At the sound of her voice, he looked up, offering a wide, wolfish grin. His brown eyes fixed frankly at her face, and after a second of hesitation, he stood, holding out a hand in greeting.

"Spins, to my friends. Or Spence works. You must be Dominique." Oh sure, Spencer wasn't exactly well versed in proper mob etiquette, but he'd at least met people before. While it wasn't in his nature to go out of his way to impress others, he was willing to at least do his best to be polite, in the interest of this dating lasting more than a few minutes. At least she hadn't run for the door when she got a good look at him. Better than some of the blind dates he'd been on.

Damn but she looked dangerous. Sleek and sharp. He liked that. But wasn't she supposed to have body guards or something? He'd have to ask.

"I guess I should offer to buy you some coffee. You thirsty?"

"Heh. I think I can manage nine letters, if I try. I can also juggle, and pat my head while rubbing my stomach." Another wide feral grin, even as he stepped away from the table, to make good on the drink he'd just offered to purchase.

To be honest, the cafe wasn't exactly his ideal hangout either, and the menu had more versions of coffee than he actually thought necessary. If he'd known Dominique better, he might have suggested a different spot for their date. On the other hand, he had the feeling that the sorts of bars and greasy spoon restraunts he usually enjoyed weren't exactly up to his dates standards. Ahh well, maybe they could broaden each others horizons.

Or she'd have him killed. Bumped off? Dealt with? What was the proper term for that?

Coffee. Right. He ordered the black coffee easily enough, but was left blinking uncomfortably at the menu when it came to his own drink. While he wasn't an idiot, or sheltered,he wasn't exactly cultured either and those drinks that went beyond the simple 'coffee' or 'mocha' were beyond him. What the hell was an americano? And did any of those words mean beer?

After reading through the menu a second time he was forced to admit that none of the words were likely to be codes for beer, and so ordered an italian soda to go with his new mafia theme. He wasn't sure what to make of the flavors list then offered to him, but after settling on the relatively delicious sounding 'chocolate' he paid and returned to the table with both their drinks.

"Right." He said, as he seated himself. "So, names. Spins, Dominique. Excellent progress. What's next in the smalltalk chain? Weather?"

"Jumping right to the interrogation, huh? I can live with that." Spins sat leaning forward elbows on the table, his attention fixed on Dom, his fingers absently fiddling with the drink that he had not yet attempted to drink. He fiddled a lot, it seemed, his fingers constantly searching for something to keep them occupied.

But one of those hands actually stilled then, and Spin's stared down at it, almost quizically. His hands were rough, but clean, a state they rarely saw. He'd worked hard to make himself presentable. One had to make sacrifices when trying to impress a killer.

Wait, did mob bosses do their own killing? It would be kind of a let down if she just had someone else take him out. A lot less dramatic, anyway.

"I'm a mechanic. I fix cars. Well, I fix other things too, but, mostly for myself. People don't usually bring their toasters into a garage, you know?" A slight shrug of his shoulders, dismissive of his work, but he was still smiling. "Not exactly useful or interesting, I know."

"I get a lot of cars in that are used for drag racing. That's fun. Been building my own, actually." Realizing that babbling about cars was probably not the best way to impress a date, he cut himself off. "You like your job?"

Spins, quite simply, could not help but fidget. He was one of those people who thought better in motion. Indeed, apparently done fiddling with his cup (which he still hadn't attempted to drink from) he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of quarters, which he began walking across his knuckles on both hands, as he'd been doing when she arrived. He seemed almost unaware of this. He didn't even look down.

"It's... a chance to decide what's really essential, and what's just dead weight. Stripping a car down to its essential elements and then building up just those that you need from it.... well, it doesn't exactly make a comfortable car. But it makes you realize how much is unnecessary."

Car talk. He was not going to spend the entire date doing car talk. Even if he had seen her smile.

He listened with apparent interest as she described her job, doing his best to substitute his stereotype of a mob boss with the reality of the woman in front of him. She probably wouldn't appreciate it if he confused the two. Still, he liked that she thought it was important to be 'hands on'. There was something very cold about the idea of someone who kept their hands clean while others dirtied theirs.

"I can imagine." He responded, not wanting to comment too deeply on something he clearly knew nothing about. "And you... inherited your position?"

Right... this was clearly a discussion for later date, provided that there was to be one. Spins shifted slightly in place, still listening attentively, but not quite capable of hiding the fact that he wasn't ready to get into the whole dead family members discussion just yet. The coins continued to dance over his fingers, though they slowed a bit, but his gaze shifted from Dom to the table and back again.

What exactly was he supposed to say here? Sorry your Dad's dead, sounds like a major job hazard? It wasn't that Spencer was incapable of sympathy... exactly. But death was, well, death.

It happened. It probably happened around the woman sitting across him a lot. And there could be something... exhilarating about it. But now as probably not the best time to bring up that philosophy.

People tended to look at him weird when he started talking philosophy on the best of days.

Perhaps distracted by the line of his own thoughts, Spencer let one of his quarters drop to the table, and finally brought the Italian Soda to his lips... only to make a face of such appalled shock and unhappiness, that it was likely impossible for Dom not to notice. He managed not to spit the stuff out, barely, and coughed a bit from the effort.

Control regained, and expecting, more than a little bit, that his own death might have just brought on by an ill timed drink choice, he refocused his gaze on Dom. "Sorry. This stuff is disgusting. You were saying?"

She was laughing? Laughing was good, right? Now fully recovered from the drink, if not pleased with the unpleasant taste it'd left in his mouth, Spins allowed himself a wide grin. He even chuckled quietly, a self deprecating sound. Ahh well, so he was an idiot, and at the worst possible time. At least she didn't seem to mind it. He could get used to this, making a fierce, powerful woman laugh.

Yeah. Best not to get too used to it yet. Funny but idiotic wasn't exactly second date material. Still, she had mentioned another time, right? Sure she'd tagged it with that perhaps, but that meant she hadn't completely dismissed the idea of another date. It was a start.

"It's like drinking chocolate flavored alka-seltzer." He explained, poking at the drink suspiciously. Was this really something that they served here, and people paid for? Or was it part of a gag menu, and the chick at the counter was just messing with his head?

A shrug, and he shook his head, the light playing on his strange, iridescent hair, "I'm sorry. This isn't really my sort of place. Guess I shoulda stuck to water."

He glanced around the cafe again, at the dark walls and scattered leather couches. "Not that there's anything wrong with it, I guess. Just, I usually stick to places that have beer and room for dancing."

Oh, did she just say they could leave? She did!

Spins bounced out of his seat like an excited third grade school girl. He was grinning, a wild hungry expression, and clearly putting a lot of effort into not dancing in place.

They could go somewhere fun! Or at least... to a place that didn't serve alka-seltzer as a supposedly legitimate drink.

"That is an awesome idea!" He said, all enthusiasm. He'd never heard a better idea. He might of suggested it himself, but what if she loved coffee shops? People seemed to. "You're brilliant."

Wait. Calm down. Don't scare the nice lady. Mean lady. Erm... Mob lady. There we go. The nice/mean mob lady. Best not to irritate her. She might make you stay here. And that would be sad.

"That is... where d'ya want to go?" He asked, a bit more calmly waiting beside the table instead of running for the door, as he might have liked.

"Is there anywhere nearby that you like?"

He could be a gentleman, see? He could ask what she wanted to do.