"Grimm, like the Reaper?" She teased, but didn't push. It fit him. It was a sexy name for a sexy guy. It wasn't like she had offered her own full name anyway. "I like it." As he took the shot from her, he asked what they should toast to and she thought for a second and then raised her shot before she spoke.
"To the magic of the witching hour and the strange encounters it brings." He grinned at her, a devestating smile that made her insides melt and clinked his glass against hers. They took their shot and she was starting to feel the buzz of whiskey working its magic. She rarely drank a lot, but tonight was special. It felt special, like there was something in the air. Or mayeb it was the way the light kept hititng his intense blue eyes that seemed to send lightning to her very core. Never had she ever been effected by a guy like this before in her life. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Either way, she wasn't questioning it at the moment.
His friends were indeed keeping up their party without him and Grimm didn't seem to mind. Lita looked back at him as she brought her half drunk glass of Jameson and Ginger to her lips. She knew she should be asking him the normal questions about himself, what he did, what he was doing here, all those things, but it all seemed so...trivial. And if she asked him questions like that, then he'd ask her and she would have to lie to him and she didn't want to lie anymore.
So she turned to him a little abruptly. "I don't really want to talk about my life or why I'm here." Her golden eyes held his blue ones, which looked surprised at her statement. "Let's skip the most obvious questions everyone asks someone they meet at a bar. I don't want to know what you do for a living. Or if its your birthday or bachleor party or something, since its obvious you guys are celebrating something. I don't want to know." There was an almost ernestness to her. She knew she would probably scare him off like this, but she didn't want something superficial, she needed something real tonight. A real connection, even if it was just a real conversation.
"Instead I want to know who your favorite poet is, if you can name more then three constellations and find them in the sky, and who you think the most romantic couple in literature or history is."
As he stared at her in what was most likely silent shock, she suddenly felt self concious and like she had totally just done something totally reckless and almost too personal. He probably thought she was totally nuts. And she was, she talked to ghosts more then people. She ducked her head, the black part of her hair covering her face as she realized what an idiot she must look like to some hot guy who probably just wanted to get laid on his last night being single or something.
"Nevermind, forget it, I'm sure you have a girlfriend or something, and I'm an idiot, I'm so sorry." She grabbed her purse, threw a twenty on the bar and bolted for the door, the noise of the bar and the laughter from across the bar from his friends suddently made the place seem too small and it made her remember why she stuck to dead people. She shoved the door open and pushed into the cool air of the NOLA streets, fumbling in her purse for a cigarette and lighter as she paused outside the bar to light the slender cigarette, her hands shaking as she tried to light it.