"Of course he wasn't. One can't be so perfect as he was made out to be," Hank smiled and shrugged slightly. He'd always thought so, anyway, and maybe that was a personal resentment of the smart, handsome, socially easygoing and enviable men who'd made fun of him all his life. But it made sense, didn't it? Nobody was perfect. Everybody had flaws, and the more they tried to hide it the more Hank thought they must be hiding something quite bad.
He winced as she chided him for his assumption, and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I only meant with the physical side of it. And you're quite beautiful, and within all... er... standard proportions?" He was sure he sounded like a real idiot. He looked at her and then just shrugged again, helplessly. "I apologize. I spoke before I'd considered what I was saying."
He shook his head. "I've never been able to find better than off the shelf. All styles are similar enough to be irrelevant, though something better tailored to my feet would be nice..." He paused at the mention of a young lady and a bookshop. He couldn't help the slight smile at the idea. "Is she... I mean, I suppose it doesn't matter but, is she a native to the city, or was she brought here as well?"
He looked down the street, then shivered. "Bound home," he chuckled. "Oh. I don't know. No. Not tonight, I don't think I have the energy. I've been on my feet since four this morning. But a walk would be nice."