Maybe it was the alcohol and the heat of the multiple bodies currently squished into the Cult of Dionysus but Cary blushed and he could feel it creep up slowly. Now it was his turn to feel embarrassed and he took a bigger swig from his glass to try and hide it. Maybe she wouldn't notice. It was, after all, quite dark.
Cary didn't think about looks-- his own or anyone elses-- very much, or at all and he never thought of himself as incredibly good looking. He was told quite often, but he didn't think so and tried to draw attention away from it. "Ah, yes the femme fatale. She's the dame all the men want and the one who always gets the poor sap in trouble." Cary hadn't found a girl like that just yet, the one he'd do anything for. That was a scary thing, he loved those movies too but never liked the idea of meeting a woman like that. A femme fatale. "I do too, there's something very classic about them. The men are always so cool and the women so classy."