[Aratar Mori'ithil]

As they finally arrived at the Fireside and she left the option of where to sit to him, he reached out and placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her across the room towards the table near the fire. Once they'd reached the table he pulled the chair for her, slipping it beneath her once she was properly seated, and moved around to take his own opposite her. Here in the firelight as he sat down he had a chance to confirm what he'd already deduced outside; this woman was an entrancing and exotic beauty.

Most elves were stuck up and snooty, finding beauty only in their own race and looking down on all the others. Aratar was hardly the the stereotypical elf, however, as was evident by his more open and friendly demeanor and more honest face. As she leaned forward, her posture accentuating her body splendidly, it was quite difficult not to stare as he leaned back languorously, taking her in fully as she gave her order. So entranced by her was he that he didn't even think to place his order until he felt her nudging foot.

"Right," he replied suddenly and a bit loudly, "Your cheapest ale for me..." He looked at her, requesting nothing further, so as not to impinge on the lady's goodwill. As she spoke again, enticing a reply, he felt the corner of his mouth yank upwards in a half-smirk.

"Iz, call me crazy, but I'm not sure I could ever forsee a dull moment with you...something tells me that even if a moment might be otherwise dull, you'd find a way to make it otherwise...after all, you do have that flare about you. Perchance it comes with your beauty." He shrugged gently, deciding finally that if she was going to continue to be so bold, so was he.

He took a moment and this time looked her up and down properly, now doing so quite blatantly in front of her, making sure his eyes lingered on her displayed skin a while before finally raising back to meet her gaze. "But if there's anything I've learned, it's that a woman's allure is found not in her look, but her manner. The way she carries herself; the things she says; the manner in which she says them...all things that make a woman attractive aside from her physical appearance...and you, m'lady, have them all in spades. I have no doubt you could have any man you wish as your escort tonight, but you accepted me for the role...so I suppose the real question, Iz, would be would you have dull moments with me?"

Even were she to completely shut him down right then and there, ridiculing him, he wouldn't care. He'd faced ridicule all his life, and he'd also learned that he'd rather be laughed at for taking risks and asking daring questions than to never live life and instead hide away in a corner, too shy and afraid to go for what he wanted. She had been the aggressor for enough of their conversation; perhaps it was time he pushed back a bit.