Luc's teeth dug into his lower lip to bite back his grin ever-so-slightly (because he was about three seconds shy of grinning like a goddamn fool) as he shut the door behind her with a soft click. He raked the hand she'd shaken through his tousled hair in a halfassed attempt to tame it (at least somewhat, because he'd be hard pressed to do anything without a mirror). He wasn't sure what it was about this girl that brought out in him what he could only refer to as the first-date jitters - and he wasn't even in any sort of position to assume that there would ever be a first date with a girl like her.
Truthfully, she was kind of out of his league, in his opinion. But, of course, this was from a guy who had no concept of how he looked to women.
"I - uh, well, a fresh pair of eyes never hurt anyone. Thank you. God knows I probably need all the help I can get at this point," he said with a soft chuckle. "I'd offer to reward you with a drink, but I don't know if that's a little presumptuous of me."
His lips twisted in a sort of half-smirk then, but when he saw her looking at the piano it turned into a pleased smile. "Well, yes - sort of - well, no, I am," he said, and that hand went through his hair again before he crossed the room to the piano, lifting the cover on the keys and tapping out a few notes from a song he had been working on for the past week - one he swore to God Britney Spears would never get her hands on. Nevermind that it was far too melancholy for the pop princess to ever pull off, no matter how much of a change of pace she thought she was capable of.
Actually, it was a song he'd been writing for Nate, but nobody needed to know that.
"I write songs for a living," he added as he laid the cover back down, swiping at some nonexistent dust across the espresso wood. "I'm really not cut out to be in a professional band. I couldn't ever see myself going on tour. But I've always loved music. I wrote my first song fifteen years ago. Even got into Berklee College of Music, but, well.. things happened, and I didn't end up going. But it just shows how much a college education is required to make a living in the music industry."
And there he was, going on about himself more than he ever should have, but it was done. "What do you do, Lia, if you don't mind my asking?" he inquired, because it was the polite thing to do, you know, ask about them instead of going on about yourself. "Wait - don't tell me. You're a model. You've gotta be." And the smile he flashed was purely innocent, and the statement completely genuine - because Lord knew the girl could, and should, have been one, if she wasn't.