Those thinly etched eyebrows were on the rise when the stranger lifted his hand like an apt pupil. Notably amused, James paid for her coffee with a credit card and a flippant signature before starting for the man's table. Although her expression was genial and habitually flirtatious, the cold severity of her eyes betrayed how paper thin of a disguise her stripper hospitality was. If it was prejudice that she not like this man because of his tale, so be it. Lotte was afraid of the Phantom, and that more than anything irritated James about their situation.
She rank into a chair across the table from him, and aimed a curious expression from over the plastic lid of her to go cup, sipping dark, iced coffee from a straw.
"You don't look like Gerard Butler." Might as well start off with a joke before they had to get serious.