Victor chuckled. "Oh, I'm so sorry," he said, finding her hazel eyes captivating. Hazel eyes, golden tan, the one with the lovely tresses, bringer of the seasons, with wheat, torches, poppies... He blinked. "I'm Victor," he said, smiling and extending his right hand to her, two beers held in his left. "What's your name?" he asked, as he took a seat on the spot she'd made for him at the end of her lounge.
The only thing that kept him from kissing her divine little feet and kneeling down and worshipping her was, quite frankly, the fact that said actions were not covered by any common etiquette of which he was aware. But he was sure people built things, killed things, and burned things for such women. Where that thought came from, however, he had not the slightest idea.