As if Pan's tongue ever got tired of talking. He loved to hear himself talk. Of course the majority of what he said was pure bullshit, but who was counting? That was one of the nice things about the era of their godhood being so long ago, hardly anyone was still around to call Pan on his bullshit. He liked it that way.
"You have no idea what all I can do with my mouth," he smirked, then wagged his tongue all over in all sorts of obscene ways. Clearly, he thought himself beyond charming and clever. "How old do you think I am?" Aaron challenged quickly, twisting his long body around, leaning one hip against the counter. He grinned, that shit-eating I-know-something-you-don't grin, his eyes hooded and dancing with mischief. "I'll bet I can guess how old you are!" He added cheerfully. "Thirty-six! No--Twenty-seven. NO! ...Eighteen?" He sighed and tossed his arms up, nearly knocking over a display with one and another customer in the face with the other. "I never was any good with ages. Or names. Or money. Good with people, though!"
Aaron somehow managed to restrain himself from doing a gyrating victory dance when she agreed to pay for his coffee. It was a good thing, because he stood out in a crowd, some said he was a person that was very difficult to forget--though Aaron could not imagine why--and places like this generally remembered him, somehow, and stopped serving him after he ran out without paying a time or two. "Right, sorry. Why did I think your name was something else?" He asked, looking genuinely confused. He waited for Elena to pay, then strolled over to the waiting area, next to Bob, who looked genuinely flustered and attempted to blend in, an action which only made Aaron want to bother him more. "Bob! My good man! We meet again!" He threw an arm around the flustered and now red-faced patron and grinned back to Elena. "You remember my good friend Helena, right?" At least he was getting closer to her name.