The First Age

"I'm a better cook than I am a maid."
She replied and handed Drayson her plate. There was a dishwasher of course, which she pointed out. The few bits of trash went into the bag and the counter was promptly wiped down. Torri's life was fairly neat and simple, but she wasn't a freak about cleaning. Not so much as to make Drayson wait while she sanitized the counter top. She wasn't insane. Not in that way at least.

Drayson started giving off the ever-obvious symbol for pending departure, so without prompting, Torri gathered the things he'd taken off to dry out and met him at the door.

"I can honestly say it's been the most eventful date I've had in a long time. I won't forget it any time soon. If I don't see you, Happy Christmas."
Her smile was small, but sincere.

Drayson let out a soft rumble of a laugh at her comment about how memorable the night had been. "It has been a rare pleasure, Victoria."
He accepted his jacket, glad to find that it was mostly dry already and tugged it on. He looked a bit rumpled, his dress shirt wrinkled from having been wet and air dried, and the jacket little better, but it was nothing some dry cleaning wouldn't fix.

"The offer still stands for the Christmas dinner of course. Churchill's Pub, Christmas Eve. I know the lads, myself included, would be more then happy to have a lovely young lady like yourself in attendance. Some new stories wouldn't hurt either."
He took her hand in his and smiled warmly; a rare thing for him, as he was rarely so bold of emotion, then went so far as to give her hand a farewell kiss. The gesture was played up, his heels audibly clacked together and free hand clasped behind his back as he leaned down to complete the gesture.