<div class="floatright">(http://ilarge.lisimg.com/image/9421631/740full-brock-o'hurn.jpg) </div><strong>NAME:</strong>Troy McNair<br/><strong>TIME/DATE:</strong>October 28th, 2017 - noon<br/><strong>LOCATION:</strong>Cafe<br/><strong>TAGGING:</strong>Libby<br/><strong>MISC INFORMATION:</strong><br/><br/><strong>"Medium rare steak please."</strong>Troy stopped short and put a hand on his chest. Did large were-lion men swoon? If he did, it was the first time ever.<em>Mine!</em>That was the first time the instinct inside him made him SURE that she was his mate. A possessive wave hit him over the head and made him shift his eyes to any and all men that came near. Screw the hamburger. “I’ll have what the lovely Linette is having, but make it two.” He said to the cook and then threw her a wink. He took his tray and loped along behind her. Troy resisted the urge to pull the chair out for her.<em>She might just take it wrong.</em>“I’m glad to hear it. I couldn’t understand a word myself.” Troy sat across from her and pulled another book out. He put it on the table and slide it towards her, but only an inch. “L” then another inch. “i” He canted his head in a questioning look – awaiting the next letter.<br/>