Of course the girl would go for both. Raphael was under the impression she would go for all things offered, and look for those that weren't. He could definitely work with this. Being corrected like that irked him but Raphael smiled in the rockstar's direction instead. "Why do you carry them if you don't use them?" He asked, eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. He liked being called stud, however, because that only proved Cherry Wilder wasn't visually impaired - which she wouldn't be anyway due to vampirism, but still. "Oh, I'm sure you still have a few unseen tricks up your sleeve." He teased. Banging an undead rockstar. Yes, or yes? Oh, yes.
He watched her wrap her arms around a streetlight with a raised eyebrow, wondering just what the hell she was doing...or what the hell she was on. Ah, that's probably what it was. She seemed to be downing the drink pretty fast and decisively, like someone who needed to knock back a few to cope with a situation. Was she onto him? Or was the girl the problem? Raphael decided not to sweat it and turned to the latter with a charming smile. He closed the distance between them in a few strides, and ignited his lighter to burn the tip of her cigarette. "FYI," he began, conspiratorially, "You're definitely my type." What wasn't, honestly?
Cherry Wilder's sudden demand startled the demon a little, who turned around to look at her once again. He bit him bottom lip to curb the effects of watching her twirling - snaking - around the streetlight, and then his eyebrows shot up in surprise. Shit. Raphael really didn't want to be responsible for murdering one of his most recent favorites, but he would if he fucking had to. God dammit, Cherry Wilder. Raphael widened his gaze, blinking a couple of times. "Wh-what?" Acting innocent until proven guilty was a staple of every guilty person's behavior.