Cocking his head, Greer cracked the smallest, thin lipped smile. This he was not expecting. How did a mousy thing like Gabriel's little homebody witch become so close with someone so forward? He liked it, though he had some very different ideas about a woman's impulse control. "Impulse control is simply a lack of patience, and very good things come to those who wait." He extended a hand to take hers, kissing the inside of her wrist lightly, "Greer Derrick, very nice to meet you."
He looked down her body, her long legs shown so perfectly in the little white cocktail dress, and said, "Do you often dress to the nines to come to the local pub?" Sure, V-Bar was more than a pub, but Daphne outshone every witch in it.