The staring contest pressed on, with seemingly no intentions to ever come to a stop. She was incredibly comfortable with it so long as she considered it a challenge, a battle of some sort. She had always liked to snicker with her friends (alright, her friend, whoever it happened to be at the time) at those couples with interlocked eyes, gazing at each other. And she would have hated to be mistaken for one of those fools, but she was pretty sure the 'sod off' stamped across her forehead was a dead giveaway that this was definitely not the case here.
He reached out and suddenly plucked at one of her strands of hair. A look of angry indignation flooded her features before she waved a hand, swatting at the empty air that had once before been occupied by his hand. As quickly as his hand had been there, it was gone.
Jack briefly fancied the idea of pulling out her wand, pressing it to his hand, and delivering some hex to humor herself and warn him against any further motions. As she thought it, however, a familiar smirk of approval seemed to unfurl in the impressionable canvass in her mind, and her insides turned cold. Who else would respond so viciously to an affront to something as trivial as hair? Jack chewed her lip for a moment, before deciding she would rather give up this one small fight, than pay the consequences of a tormented mind all week. Instead, she turned to her shotglass, and downed it.
In his infinite wisdom, the d'Eath man began to suggest to her changes in her lifestyle and appearance. "As trusted as your advice may be, I must pass. My face and hair have other duties to attend, and keeping them a certain way for your viewing pleasure just doesn't cut it on my list of priorities."
She could not argue with what he had to say about Satan's women. Sure, they all seemed to be easy lays, but there was a general greed in the eyes of each one. And boisterous aptly described Vito's eager dancers, always eager to find the big tippers and plaster on the fakest smiles Jack had ever seen. She tilted her head in mild agreement, but added nothing. He asked to refill and she nodded, pushing her glass towards him.
He refilled and she drew it near her, ready for another drink. "I don't know why they don't mention it, but I was grateful it was omitted, that was for sure." She raised her glass to her lips to drink, but never got the chance.
His... what?!
She spluttered, trying waste as little of the drink as possible, and attempting not to spray it anywhere. Choking it down, she managed to stare at him in disbelief.
There he was, smiling as though he had not just called her a ballerina, his ballerina, in fact. She steeled her expression, deciding she could play him better. "I don't know. It was so long ago. Perhaps I was wishing I was in a land where they taught you ballroom dancing and cigar smoking." Finally, finishing off the rest of her drink, she added, soberly, "Mostly just trying to escape."
It was the side effect drinking gave her. Though she was able to continue on joking, snide as ever, every drink seemed to require one nugget of truth out of her, however much she hated to include it.