He shook his head, glancing around the quiet diner.  "No, not very often.  My job has me moving around a lot, no office desk to lock me down."  He left it at that; she could ask him what he did and he'd probably tell her (his day job at least), and if she didn't, well, it just gave him that pleasant air of mystery.  The fingers of one hand briefly drummed across the table top, to the tempo of an old marching song before he stilled his hand once more.<br/><br/>He turned a bit in his booth, resting one arm across the back of the bench, other fisted on the table, and brought one booted foot up to rest on the opposite knee, sitting comfortably and facing her a bit more directly.  "Sorry to ask, but are you in a play or something?  I mean, the clothes are certainly flattering, but the advent of the zipper and such sort of killed the full lace corset didn't it?"