Though Miyako tried immensely hard to keep that frown upon her face, she is rather distracted by his lopsided grin, that chuckle racing down her spine as if he had whispered in her ear. It was hard to be serious whilst in that tiny space with this absurdly attractive man. So, when he apologies to her using yet another name that did not belong to her, she doesn't frown, the petite Asian woman merely provides a shy smile. If she had to choose between the two terms of endearment, she would much prefer 'darlin'. As he responds, she still finds it hard to believe that it wasn't him who she had so watched the sunrise with.

So, she lets it go, though she does arch a delicate brow at his comment of the use of drugs. She might have preached to him that the use of drugs was hardly legal, yet she bites her tongue. She doubted she would get far with him and who was she to judge? Miyako had hardly been in any situations that might have called for the use of drugs, nor had she ever been drunk in her life. Perhaps if she had a traditional upbringing her life would have been significantly different, she might even have had a normal high school experience. Mi was far too uptight and innocent at her age.

As their conversation switches to that of a humorous matter, the smile widens at his response. "I recommend that you do, I hear it's difficult to prove that your identity's been stolen," she laughs again, such a musical sound as he fingers are snaking up into her hair to move those locks off her neck. She entirely misses the way his eyes drop to the floor as she chews on her bottom lip, unaware that she was causing such things to travel through the man's mind. It was merely a habit she had picked up when she was nervous or thinking.

Again, their conversation shifts and she worries that she might have upset him. Her brows furrowing briefly at him, she tilts her head to regard him, "Sorry, I didn't mean to say that you didn't work for what you own," she grimaces, offering a small smile as a form of an apology. And then Miyako is sighing, her weight shifting to her other foot as she's tugging at the neckline of her sweater, "I wish I could work a 9-5 job," she murmurs wishfully, "I work nights and it's very taxing, especially when you have to pay tickets during the day," she states, not realizing what's rolling off her tongue before it's too late.

Her chocolate eyes snap back to his face, wide with embarrassment, "I, er, didn't do anything bad," she stammers out quickly, her cheeks flushing pink, "I was just... I mean, who gets a ticket for jaywalking?" she throws her hands on her hips, her face entirely red now that she's let the cat out of the bag. She's thankful when he finally offers his name, the woman is able to calm her embarrassment enough that the red is fading from her cheeks, though that pink tinge remains. Yet, she does not the way his blue eyes travel the length of her body, indulging in her womanly shape, that again, sends heat racing down her spine, the heat entirely different from that of the elevator.

It only made her sweater that much hotter as she's clearing her throat. "I suppose so, I'm very grateful that I wasn't trapped in here alone," she offers another brief smile. "I, uh, have a weird request," she mutters, looking at the floor, that color creeping up her cheeks again, "I, um, am really hot, I'm going to take off my sweater but I have a tank top on underneath, do you mind if I take it off?" she asks quietly, her cheeks a brilliant shade of red. As she waits for his approval, she begins to strip off her shirt, tossing it along with the other clothing items on her bag, her pale skin flashing in the florescent lights. Sighing in relief, a small simper caresses her lips before eyeing him again, "You have a lot of tattoos," she comments, as her eyes travel his muscled arms, looking at the different shapes and shading of each art piece. "Did they hurt?"

Miyako Aiken