Arms were playfully flung around him, and his immediate response was to seize up, muscles going taunt and rigid, jaw stiff as he cringed. Dietre and physical contact were not very familiar with each other, it was something he needed to be gently coaxed into, so having it thrown upon him all of a sudden was not a very good thing. As uncomfortable as he was, Dietre remained a gentleman, and he did not push the girl away, or tell her to let him go, or acknowledge his half panic at all. He just let her cling all she wanted, still as a statue, his cheeks flushed brightly. D really was a complete pushover.
She spoke so quickly it was hard for him to keep up, and her arm around his shoulder didn't help, it was quite distracting.
"Uhm...I'm looking for a Mr. Vincent...er...a Vincent..." That soft, husky voice trailing off as he realized he didn't know Vincent's last name. Had it come up last night? He didn't think so...but there was a chance he wasn't exactly coherent for the majority of the time they had been together.
"..He has dark skin, and dark hair...and...he lives not quite at the top.." He cleared his throat, feeling awkward. "I have some things to give him.."
"My name is Dietre." For a killer, he certainly gave away his name easily. His brow furrowed, head lilting just a bit to the side in question.