Lane did not even try to hide the way her eyes rolled when he provoked Steve with the comment of "It's probably going to be a late night." She'd have to figure out some excuse for her "guest's" behavior later, because her brother, of course, possessed a protective streak, like most older brothers did. They were old enough now that he knew better than to act on that need to guard her unless she asked him to, both because he had paid for it before in bloodied noses and bruises and the fact that Lane was rather formidable when she wished to be. When he continued with the comments about how she was pretty when she was made, Lane tried in vain to soften her features to look impassive and unperturbed. Instead, she was fairly certain it looked something like Resting Bitch Face, rather than the tranquility she had hoped to achieve.<br/><br/>He continued with his fast paced and witty remarks, and though she knew she should have, Lane did not pull away when his hand slid over her own. That was part of the problem with men that were trouble, she had a habit of enjoying that sort of problem, being pulled in by the complicated and sometimes broken nature of those sort of men. If nothing else, James stood out among them, unique in both is approach and his blunt honesty. She followed him as he grabbed the Kava off the shelf and listened as he continued.<br/><br/>The kiss on the hand was something that surprised her, but his true shock came next. "We should go outside, and if you want to buy me dinner then..." Lane sucked in a breath through her nostrils and looked away from him as if steeling herself for what she was about to say. "Then I'm fine with that. Maybe it'll make up for...all this." She gestured toward him, mostly indicating all his actions since he had entered her shop. Once they were outside of the shop and out of earshot of her brother, she walked with him a few paces before she spoke again.<br/><br/>"You're trying to tell me that you knew Adella Torkelson?" Adella had begun the family grimoire in the 17oos, so it was not hard to deduce that she had to be the one he met. Adella had lived in Sweden for a time, before she traveled to the Americas with her family, to seek out new opportunities. The Americans were not fully over their fearful persecution of anything they considered to be witchcraft, so Adella had been careful and kept few confidences. Even her journals were very general, so Lane had no way of knowing if he told the truth. Her brow furrowed though, and she looked over at him with skeptical eyes.<br/><br/>"So you expect me to believe you're hundreds of years old and that the grimoire is something you helped make?" She didn't address his comment about her feisty nature or what kind of witch wanted to be just yet, because she needed a moment to process everything.<br/><br/>"And just how 'friendly' were you?" It was a question that had to be asked. With the forward way he had behaved toward her, Lane couldn't help but wonder if it was some kind of transference. He clearly held some kind of positive feelings for her descendant, and humans had a tendency to show favor or distaste toward the familiar. Even at her shop, there was a woman that came in that resembled Lane's deceased mother, and though the woman was a crotchety and rarely satisfied customer, Lane still felt positive feelings every time she saw the woman, at least at first glance.<br/><br/>"There's a cafe around the corner, it's got the best artisan sandwiches in town and my friend Vivienne happens to own it, so if my body turns up on the lakeside tomorrow, both she and Steve should be able to give a good description of you." Her comment was more teasing than serious, though she delivered it deadpan. "That's what vampires do, right? Leave a trail of bodies in their wake? I can only figure that's what you are, because humans don't live that long."<br/><br/>Lane found herself stealing glances of him despite herself. Though she would not say it aloud as he had about her being the type he liked, he was exactly the kind of poison she would pick as well. Maybe it was the thrill he offered or the fact that he seemed to know her world without her telling him about it. The few boyfriends she had in the past were either too oblivious and caught up in their own shit to care about her witchy ways, or they were purposefully ignorant of them. It was almost refreshing to speak so openly about it, even though she still attempted to be careful with him.