I don't know about time. Maybe time, maybe...maybe inclination? [He looks down at himself, back up (down) at her.] Looks like I'm geared up for a fight, so probably not the time. Maybe I'll just call this a post-war celebration dance until someone or something tells me otherwise.

[And then there's the eyes! And wings! The eye-wings! And ahahahahaaaa, his brain sputters a little. Because does he like them, hell no, he does not, what the good genuine fuck. But you can't just tell a cute girl you don't like something about them! That gets drinks poured on you--honesty is the worst policy. Why is he suddenly thinking of sexual puns and 'bow chicka bow wow'?]

They. Uh. They're. Hm. They're looking at me? Is that--is that normal, do you think? [Yeah, he likes attention, but this is a little much.] Are you like seeing with all those eyes?