Femme fatales in Jack's mind were not so obvious, but she was what she was. Her clothes were of importance to him purely because of what they represented. But he did attract such types, didn't he? "Recent pop culture has had a way of making everyone more attractive to the consumers." He conceded.
Jack smirked, matching her deadly smile with one of his own. "I welcome someone who likes getting bloody, whether their own or not." When the waiter walked up, Jack ordered a bottle of their best red. The man gave Jack an accusatory look, but ran off to go handle their order. Jack's eyes swept the crowd behind her, watching the normal men start to become restless. He felt it to, in his heart or whatever semblance of such a thing that he might still have.