He barked out a laugh when she said she'd rather skip to the<i>fun part</i>. It might have been stretching things a little to call pulling at this aspect of her out like he was. He hadn't given her the precautionary words about what he planned on doing to them both, or what the chalked symbols on his table meant. Then again, Lane Barnes hadn't asked. It was this reckless part of her that had his eyes sparking up like they had last night. Gold sifted through the deep green of his eyes that only added to the intrigue and mischief making that played across his features as soon as the words left her mouth. Hopped up as he was, the magic was thick and pulsing beneath his veins. Without asking, he reached out again and ran his fingertips from her wrist to her elbow and back down again – leaving a spark of sensation behind at his touch. Like a magnet, his own calling teased at hers, beckoning it up to the surface. His touch was simply a tease, though.<br/><br/>Rocking forward in his seat, his teeth closed around the lobe of her ear to give it a rousing tug before he pressed his mouth close to the shell of her ear. “Are you sure you want to come out and play tonight, Lane Barnes?”<br/><br/>His voice growled the words. He might have asked the question again, but as far as he was concerned, the girl had already made up her mind. Easing back into his own seat and gestured toward the table.<br/><br/>“Light my table on fire.” Absently. He even made the dismissive hand gesture at the furniture. Only his eyes sparkled with the devil in him and his lips curled with the suggestion. “I have a match, if you need it. But somehow I'm not really convinced that you're going to do it.”<br/><br/>As an after thought, he might have thought to mention that like the brush of his fingers, the effects of any flame touching those markings were going to act like a suction to drag out the innate capabilities she had harnessed so effortless just earlier that day. He was simply there as a conduit for the backlash, so that when it happened it didn't knock her backwards or drain her right off the bat. Taking up the chalk again, he set his palm down and sketched the final symbol on the palm of his own hand – then settled it lightly on her shoulder. That way, the pull of the mess he had made on the table wouldn't blow them both up and he would channel with her whatever powers that she had hidden and – what he assumed was – dormant.<br/><br/>“Go.”