Dylan heard her laugh, but didn't think much of it. She likely had flocks of men in her wake, but here she was, sitting with him. Besides, girls liked a guy who could make them laugh, right? even in the most negative of situations, Dylan had always found a way to twist it so he came out on top. But that's what happened when someone was a narcissist.
"Astrid?" Dylan question, "Is that some sort of Star?" It sounded familiar, but if it was a constellation Dylan wouldn't know. "Or a candy?" He further asked, thinking he'd eaten more candies in his life than discovered constellations. Whatever it was, it wasn't a regular name. It likely had meaning behind it, unlike his name. He wasn't even sure where Dylan came from, as far as he knew it wasn't tied to family history. What Dylan didn't know, was that his name was decided before he had been born, and not by his parents. His first name, Dylan, meant Son Of The Sea, and his last name, Marshall, meant Horse Keeper. Had he learned about the Greek Gods, specifically Poseidon, he might have thought that was curious. But he didn't, so it was never an issue.
Raising his eyebrow, Dylan shook his head. "No, never. Canada, Mexico, and Greece are basically the only places I've been. Have you been on a catamaran in Cancun? Or Juan & Amigo Delphines en el Rivera Maya?" The last sentence was spoken in perfect Spanish. Dylan realized it too late and couldn't stop himself, but 'en el' was very much like 'in the', so he figured Ms. Gorgeous would understand. No, he didn't speak Greek, but he spoke fluent Spanish. Greek was still a language he was working on. Although similar to Spanish, Dylan was having a terrible time picking it up. Ironic.
Smirking at her order, Dylan's eyes twinkled. "We don't get too many orders like that around here," he told her. Flicking his head, he motioned towards the bartender, who was obviously confused. "You'll probably get raspberry vodka mixed with Curacao, that's as blue as it gets." As his nerve eased, he was able to take in her breath-taking beauty. There was no flaw on her face, which he could tell was free of make up. Her eyes were intense, and her boobs were a sculpted masterpiece. Were all Americans like this these days? He hadn't seen such natural beauty when he worked in Mexico, had the water changed? From what Dylan could tell she was 100% real, no plastic surgery. But was that possible, a creature this perfect?
He just couldn't keep his eyes off her, and his manly essence was having a fit.