[i]Drake gave her a double-take: once for the looks, and once for a more analytical glance, before he turns back to his drink. He knew the helplessness she felt: due to his lack of formal education, he was barely able to read. The only reason he could read these menus is because he frequented such places so often, that he was able to match the product with the alien symbols on the page. Normally, he'd go straight in for business, for someone to spend the night with. But perhaps that mindset had been left in the past, alongside so many of his old habits. A light scar sat on his left cheek; a reminder of the fault in his old ways. Now, he'd try to help her not because he was trying to get in her pants, but instead in a genuine effort. He walked over to her, brushing his black hair back up onto his forehead, where it sat neatly gelled and combed.[/i] "I can see that you're looking a little confused there. If my opinion's worth anything, I'd recommend the Vodka--it's a bit of an acquired taste, but that's what this place's known for." [i]He paused for a second, realizing that he was forgetting something.[/i] "Oh, and I'm Michael. Nice to meet you."