He blinked, closing his mouth before looking down, ashamed. His eyes were lidded by long lashes, "I'm sorry."

Ira chuckled, waving away that apology, though she appreciated the slightly sad tone he took that bit of shame. "Please, it happened a long time ago."

He looked back at her, taking her muscular figure, trying to piece together the mystery that his curiosity would not let go of, "Were you in the military?"

"You can say that…"

The sounds of the crowds faded; in fact, each yell or shout turned into a scream, a war cry. The sound of tires hitting asphalt seemed to ring in her ears, like the sound of boots stomping against dirt, a gunshot ringing through the air. With that gunshot, came the scent of gunpowder and ash. The city faded, the morning sky turned dark, the sun setting into flames.

She could taste iron in her mouth, and when she looked down at her cup, the color of her coffee turned red. Her brow furrowed ever so slightly at the screams that were once her lullabies, and her bare left shoulder felt so heavy. Her heart pounded and soon was starting drummed along with the screams. It was the sound of war, of death, a feeling so familiar that she was sinking into it, being consumed by it.

Then a light touch seemed to bring her back, a gentle stroke of Tristan's' hand on hers. She didn't jump despite being awakened by it. She gazed and studied those pale and soft fingers. She looked up to see him smiling softly at her, pulling his hand away once he was sure she returned. His voice was gentle, "It must have been hard. I'm sorry to bring it up."

His fingers were warm, and she memorized that smile. She took another sip of her coffee, enjoying the warmth that still remained, "Like I said, it was a long time ago." Everything was back into focus, "Is it my turn to ask super personal questions?"

Tristan gave a nervous laugh, "Fair enough. You can ask. In fact, as an apology for my rudeness, I promise to answer any question on any topic completely truthfully."

"Oh? My, my, what a prize." Ira fingers fiddle along with the ceramic cup, thinking of her intensely personal question. Many questions wondered along with her mind; Did he like violence? Has he ever killed anyone barehanded? Is he a part of a rival crime family and did she murder his father?

Will he be hers?

"Are you single?" She asked, her voice low, her fingers stopping their fidgeting. The tension seemed to build in the air as she perhaps pushed too fast. Her heart squeezed in embarrassment from that question, but his gentle touch was still there on her hand, looked into her memory.

"Oh, going right out of the gate with this one?" His smile returned, and his eyelids lowered a bit, those deep blue depths peering underneath long lashes, "For now."

No romantic rival to murder. Excellent. "That is very good to know." She coughed a bit, "Of course, that is if I was even interested."

"Really? You asked."

Ira bit her lip, a little embarrassed, before she gave a low laugh, "You're the one who came up to me with a convenient excuse. You're going to have to try a little harder than that."

"I am more than willing to try." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, chin on the back of his hands, "Is it my turn now? I am desperate to continue this uncomfortable question game."

Ira sat back, motioning for him, her smile widening to a grin, "We can make it into an actual game! I ask a question and try to guess at your answer first."

He laughed softly, his voice like music, "But we just met!" He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow, "Actually, I at least have the advantage of 'stalking' you."

"Oh…but I love a challenge."

"All right," he bit his lip, thinking hard about what to ask, wondering if he should try a personal one again. "Are YOU single?" He chuckled with a snort, "Yes, you are."

She snorted, waving away his answer, "No shit. That doesn't count at all, cheater." She looked away in mock indignation, "Try again."

"Okay, you have a point there. Favorite kind of movie? I'm guessing horror."

"Oh, I do like a good gore flick, but no. I prefer action. Some horror is too slow." She closed her eyes, her finger tapping against the table, "I'm stealing your question, and I will guess you also like action."

He chuckled softly, " no…Uhmm…" He scratched his cheek again; she noticed that it seemed to be a nervous tick of his, "I actually like romance. Except not like bad romances… but quirky ones."

Her eyes widened a bit, "I would not have guessed. Ugh, I hate those chick flicks, hardly any of them are good."

"There are good quirky ones. Those I like!"

She scoffed, not believing him, "Well, that's it then; we cannot go to the movies together."

He grinned, "Planning an actual date already? Maybe we can watch one of my crappy films?"