"Hey," said Mickey, as he sauntered closer, his solid body moving with all the grace and fluidity of a young cat. "Don't sweat it. If I didn't want people to stop and stare, I would've gone somewhere more private." And worn a shirt, a voice in his head added. It sounded suspiciously like Leon's.
Mickey affected a humble little shrug. "I've been practising for a while. I'm an Expert, I'm expected to have some control." Mickey reached for Sorin's hand, warmer than it had any right to be. "I'm Mickey Torres. Ifrit."
Mickey noticed the look, and added: "You have a sexy accent, Sorin. Where are you from?"