To be perfectly honest, it wasn't the hardest thing to strike Liam dumb for one reason or another -- he very likely had these "Woahh" moments a lot. The thing was, it was usually not because there was a gorgeous girl walking down the street in, for better or worse, her underwear. No, she was not actually in her bra and panties -- Liam's face flushed slightly at that thought -- but he was still sure that she was not really aware of just the affect that she had.
Or, maybe she was. Even in his weed-addled brain, Liam registered that smile as being anything but innocent, for some reason. "School, right. That thing that I dropped out of." Because anything was better than just staring at her without talking, right? And then she opened her robe and it was all Liam could do to keep his eyes from bugging out. He knew she was saying something, she was putting words together in a sentence, but for the life of him, Liam had no idea what she said. He settled for lifting his brows and blowing a strange breath of air out of his mouth, like that would help him collect himself. "Those are nice." His eyes found her face again as he blanched. "Your pjs, I mean," he brought his hand up to the back of his neck. "Did you get this same reaction a bunch or am I just special?" A special kind of high, that is. Instead of waiting for her to answer, he looked back down at her "pajamas". "I bet you did." There was an awkward sort of pause wherein he struggled to remember his own name. "I'm Liam. Or, at least I think I am. And you..." are nothing short of a miracle, he thought. Who else wore that to school? "...you're probably old enough for me to even be staring at?" Wincing, he phrased it as a question -- this was a moral issue, okay?