"Crayfish, sure... Alright. I'm paying, so you know. I came into some wealth, working my ass off. Not like I spend it on myself anyhow, so I insist." he stated coolly, absent in thought, but present nonetheless. "You look fine, very fine. I know it's not your thing, but so long as you're in Eorzea, I suggest you get used to the style of dress. You look nice, anywa-- I'm repeating myself." he cut himself off.Â
Flynt waved over a server, allowing the couple to place their orders, Flynt simply ordered a glass of overly expensive water and an overglorified steak; the most pretentious of dishes: the filet mignon. He had the gil, he had even less of a damn to give about it neither. Nodding off the waiter with a grateful smile, he returned to his somber, more honest demeanor.
"Tell me," he mused, "You're really strung up on me, aren't you.". He leaned back against his seat, twiddling his thumbs, finding comfort in P'rita's presence. "You do Know that I'm not one for a single woman. I can't, it's simply not in my interests. Of course, I am not implying you need compete with somebody else for my attention." "It's just a matter of your own comfort. I'm interested, you're interested, everything is hunky-dory, right? It feels wrong to advance without you aware that you are not the only one. Ah, rest assured, you won't be pushed aside, neither. My love is indefinite, it chooses no favorites. Unorthodox? Yes. Healthy? Well, I try to accommodate the individual wants and needs of my lovers."
The explanation ran on, he was honest about it all. It really would be a shame to go on with any romantic advances without both sides on common ground; after all, that's the fine line between being a booty call and a love interest. "Call me a tramp, a playboy, whatever you find most fitting. I simply cannot confide in a single one, easy as that.", he concluded after a long-winded proposition. "What say you?", he asked with a genuine smile, seeing out of his peripheral vision that the food was near completion, being placed on silver platters.
Flynt waved over a server, allowing the couple to place their orders, Flynt simply ordered a glass of overly expensive water and an overglorified steak; the most pretentious of dishes: the filet mignon. He had the gil, he had even less of a damn to give about it neither. Nodding off the waiter with a grateful smile, he returned to his somber, more honest demeanor.
"Tell me," he mused, "You're really strung up on me, aren't you.". He leaned back against his seat, twiddling his thumbs, finding comfort in P'rita's presence. "You do Know that I'm not one for a single woman. I can't, it's simply not in my interests. Of course, I am not implying you need compete with somebody else for my attention." "It's just a matter of your own comfort. I'm interested, you're interested, everything is hunky-dory, right? It feels wrong to advance without you aware that you are not the only one. Ah, rest assured, you won't be pushed aside, neither. My love is indefinite, it chooses no favorites. Unorthodox? Yes. Healthy? Well, I try to accommodate the individual wants and needs of my lovers."
The explanation ran on, he was honest about it all. It really would be a shame to go on with any romantic advances without both sides on common ground; after all, that's the fine line between being a booty call and a love interest. "Call me a tramp, a playboy, whatever you find most fitting. I simply cannot confide in a single one, easy as that.", he concluded after a long-winded proposition. "What say you?", he asked with a genuine smile, seeing out of his peripheral vision that the food was near completion, being placed on silver platters.