Casey cracked a slanted smile that suggested a particularly wry nature as she took his hand.  She even paid him a compliment.  That, he had not expected.  "Why miss Frost, you'll have me blushing like a schoolboy."  He studied her eyes.  They were lovely.  And discerning.  He had the distinct impression that he was being measured as a man, down to his smallclothes.  It was going to be a night of careful exploration, or his oath would fly to tatters as quickly as his position on the Council once the date went down in flames.  His gaze turned to her fingers, lacing with his own, and he ran his thumb across her digits gently.<br/><br/>"I love my brother,"  He said slowly, his smile dropping to a more serious expression, golden brows furrowed.  "But he's not why I'm here.  He needs to learn to control his temper better.  Gods, he's a grown man.  What happened at the memorial service was inexcusable."  Back to his date his eyes turned.  No, I-"  He very nearly spun an old lie, he'd been telling for months.  Something stayed his tongue, though.  This was a woman he was going to marry.  Communication and honesty, his father had said, were the foundation of a great relationship.  He shook his head again.  "My father is ailing.  He might not live the month.  He took my oath that I'd look after my brother, and the House Murphy.  And that means..."  He gestured vaguely to the room in an encompassing motion that suggested the situation as a whole.  "Well.  I could imagine harsher punishments."<br/><br/>His smile sprang back, only slightly strained.  "Me in a nutshell.  Let's see.  I like Celtic punk rock, I'm certainly a dog person, and I don't consider a food a meal unless it involves meat of some sort."  The expression eased into a more comfortable one.  "And I'm the sort of old fashioned that still picks up the bill on the first date."  His eyes swept to the side, as a waitress approached with a notepad in hand.<br/><br/>"I'll have a porterhouse, rare."  He glanced back to his date.  "Wine with dinner, darling?"