As she looked up and he could see her face, his eye brows went up into his hairline. She looked like the girl from his dreams...The girl that turned him into a complete and total sap. A lovesick puppy dog who held hands, read poetry over a candlelit dinner (well dinner for her), walked on the beach, blah, blah, blah. He had told Stryfe about the recurring female in his dreams (as the dreams were never the same, just the beautiful woman in them, a girl he had not ever met, until today.) Styfe had made fun of him for a week straight. Which was returned by Cyrus giving him hell about the virgin girl next door he had agreed to go on a date with. And then they both had a laugh over the idea of Stryfe meeting her dad.
"I know plenty of men who read more then a skin mag," he answered her with a smile. "Most of them are dead." He reached the counter, looking into her grey eyes. Which were exactly as he remembered them from his dreams.
"Aw hell.." he muttered as he looked away. Now what? Then he realized she had asked him a question. "I'm just...browsing," he answered her with a brilliant grin.