don't think twice, it's alright
It was a struggle to keep his back straight and shoulders broad when all he wanted to do was sag with relief, but Lukas managed. He only felt luckier when she responded without swearing at him. Already the patrons, who'd paused at the near-mishap, were going back about their business, parting around them like trout around stone in their stream. He nods amiably at her rejoinder, caught by the accent he can't place. It's hardly the only thing that snags his attention.
"I'll switch to decaf immediately," he promises, and can't help but sweep his gaze from the gemstones nestled in her hair like stars to the heels he was almost certain could puncture his heart, if she were so inclined.
Thank god he hadn't actually spilled on her - she might have been, and looking like that he might not have blamed her. He was no authority in women's fashion, but he didn't have to be erudite to guess that her ensemble cost more than his first month's rent. It was impossible not to wonder who she was, what she did - and he knew it was just as impossible for him to ask.
So instead he only offers her a more muted smile and an apologetic shrug of shoulders. "It was a bad decision anyway - my first-day nerves didn't need any help. But please - don't let me keep you. Wherever you're headed would never forgive me."
It's a little alarming, how easily the coquetry falls from his lips, and he feels a thousand miles from the man in the alley with the knife to his throat he'd been just a few weeks ago. But poor Lukas - he hasn't really learned anything since then. Not about what matters, not about the kinds of creatures that walk this city - whether their steps are soft as a cat's with a killer's intent, or brazen in black stilettos.
He should, at the very least, know something is strange about this woman. No more mortal had eyes like that. And if she was one of the vampires that Karou had so strangely spoken of, well, he could see why men fell victim.