Will I? [He regarded her for a long quiet moment, eyes roaming over her facial features, down the column of her neck, the set of her shoulders and even further south until the table top obscured. Yes, he was checking her out.]

Alright, sounds like it could be fun. What's the worst that could happen?

[Oh there were so many 'worst' that could happen, but he didn't care right now. He finished up a few more bites, piled what was left on a single plate and waited to be able to take it all back to his apartment. Or hers. Apparently.]

I do hope that stirring you doesn't involve waxing poetry. I'm real shit at that.