He is in the process of enjoying a scallop, the way the panchetta complimented the light canvass the small seafood provides, when Anthony picked up the wine and poured Alex some.  Anthony was liberal, but Alex was in the mood.  So it worked out well.<br/><br/>He reaches for the wine and swirls it a bit as he speaks, possibly thinking to actually taste it this time.  “I'm not looking for anyone new.  Just some loud music and good times and possibly a good fuck.”  He says in a way a man would confide in a trusted friend.<br/><br/>Alex nods about the scallops and says “I'm a stock broker.”  He passes it off as if it were nothing, not wanting to draw too much attention to his means, not being that drunk or at ease yet.  “The joy of the sale and the beating of the market.  The race against your peers to get the top dollar possible.  It is all a game.”  He decides to add with vagueness enough to keep the details fuzzy but detail enough that it didn't sound like he shut down the question.  He did say more than he meant to though.  The wine and Anthony's mental massages urging him on.  He takes a long drink of wine.<br/><br/>Finally the steaks arrive And he has all the uneaten food cleared.  He just really wanted at least one good bite of this, his favorite meal.  The plate is set before him.  He finishes the glass, sets it in front of him and picks up his knife and fork.  He begins to cut, nice big bites.  No standing on ceremony tonight.<br/>