Leaning back in his chair, Mathew's attentions had been diverted from the conversation at hand. Instead, his eyes moved from the group of cat girls huddled around the table, to the man with his rather entertaining pet, and finally to the busy and befuddled waitress. He ran a hand through his slicked rather unkempt brown hair, thinking to himself, contemplating what it would take to tame one of these pretty young things. Or what one would cost. Sitting and watching for a moment he waited for the waitress to come by. He signaled for her with a whistle.<br/><br/>"Can I get a spot of gin miss," his voice calm and one might even say sweet. But his mind racing with ideas about what to do with her had there not been so many people about.