Considering everything? Considering what? Declan could not say that he followed, but he chose not to comment on it. At least, not until he knew her a bit better. Of course, that brought about the question of whether or not he really wanted to do so. In his head, he heard Dom telling him that he needed to loosen up and just be nice, so he decided not to push things, but also not to push her away. Better to let her choose when to tell him things, he supposed.
"Your line of work?" he asked, looking up from his attempts at cleaning. "What would that be?" Declan nearly made a comment about how he and her brother probably did not have the same experiences with it, but he was not interested in explaining himself after. Not until he had some reason to trust her - if he ever managed to find one.
Declan leaned forward to rest his forearms on the bar, hands clasped together when she asked about cooking. His head tilted to the side as he considered it, he paused for a moment before comping up with his reply. "Look... I do well with activities I can do without other people. And cooking is..." he stood up a bit straighter, though his elbows remained planted on the bar top, and a bit of excitement appeared in his stance and expression. "Cooking is creating something out of many other things. It's bringing together things people don't expect to work and making them do just that. It's like potions, in a way. And," he added, his expression darkening slightly, "it's much easier to create something wonderful on your own than try and get someone to work on it, too."
A little chuckle escaped at her comment about his name. "It's like Air-ren," he provided, realizing that he had likely said it rapidly and in his heavier accent. It tended to happen when he said certain words - especially when he gave his full name. The Irish in him seemed to escape without his realizing it, surprising people sometimes.
A man down the bar requested a tap beer, and Declan gave a nod, realizing that the other bartender was busy dealing with a couple rowdy customers.
"So," he offered to Anya, stepping back to pick up a cold mug from the small freezer behind the bar, "Got any plans for New Year's? I dare say I'll be getting a load of people in here to sulk. That will be fun," he joked, the truly genuine amusement in his tone surprising even him. Usually, sarcasm was the only kind of joking he could manage. Still, he acted like nothing was out of the ordinary, and filled the man's order before wandering back over to Anya.