She had made a joke about them being on a date, and his face did something awfully peculiar. It did not scrunch up or strain itself to make any sort of face or acknowledgment, nor did he let out his normal verbal queue of having heard what she said. Instead his gaze continued forward, his expression unwavering. "Perhaps." It was a simple response, one devoid of the usual hesitation or emotion that would indicate the seriousness of his words, or whether or not he was joking all together. Perhaps it was due to his inexpressive ways that his true intent would be impossible to discern.
She had accepted one of his cigarettes, getting it within close proximity of his own and using his own red hot cherry to light her own. As she did so, he continued on with what he was saying. Her actions had trounced on any semblance of personal space he may have had, but his words were trampling over any distance that had been between them, and so in his mind the two actions evened themselves out. He was essentially voicing not only all of the stories he had heard of her, but also his own interpretations of both those stories and now the reality that stood before him.
"You're a perceptive man." Her words began short and concise, drawing in his attention and arresting his gaze. She explained herself, opening up further as well. There was a moment, in the furthest depths of his mind, that pointed out how odd a relationship this had become. A stranger he knew for no more than half an hour, and here they were opening up about their lives.
Or at least, her life.
As she said that he likely wouldn't understand, his vision finally broke off from hers. While she found the sky, an endless expanse of possibility stretching before her in which to find her thoughts, he found the earth. His eyes had dropped down, locking eyes with whatever patch of ground was a few feet before them, and he found himself contemplating her words. Perhaps he wouldn't understand; perhaps he simply couldn't. Still, when she questioned his motive, he was quick to correct her.
"I'm trying to find reason behind my decision to let you remain free."
His voice was too matter of fact, too deadly serious in its begrudgingly realistic tone, for his words to be taken as anything other than truth. She could still find a way, certainly, to bend what he said into meaning something else. However, what he said was entirely true. He had already made the decision to let her roam free tonight, but now what he was looking for was proof that his decision was the right one. That proof would only come from further getting to know her, to understand the noise that went bump in the night directly from the source.
As was her tendency, she shifted the topic away from the deadly serious. She hinged instead on his final comment, looking at him with a sense of feigned astonishment, responding that she was attractive enough as she was, and returned her words back to him. She emphasized the same thing she said previously, implying heavily that he needed to learn to relax.
"Perhaps," he began, "but it seems to be working just fine already."
The implication of his words were, if one were to dare assume him even capable of such a thing, threatening flirtation. The question then was what he meant by it, and whether that kneejerk assumption was even correct. Jove was known by many things, by many people, but someone who would casually try to flirt with anyone, let alone a stranger, was not one of those things.
Venus wouldn't be given the time to consider it. Instead, a mere moment after he had spoken, he spoke again.
"I might not understand, you're right about that. That doesn't mean that attempting is worthless. Besides, isn't getting to know one another the entire point of a first date?"
No likely it was a strange situation, hearing words like these without inherent shifts in tone or any of the normal indicators of intent behind the words. Whether or not he was saying them to match her tone, or she was someone who genuinely caught his eye, or even if he was just quick witted despite how he spoke and carried himself, knowing for sure was nearly impossible.
Their walk had taken them away from the alley in which they first met, from the evidence that lay in a crumpled mess on the cobbled floor. The noise of the hot springs faded into the distance, and the evidence of activity declined until the two walked a path illuminated only by the moonlight, and deafened by the silence between their steps.
"Why are you still here, Venus Rosé?" He decided once more to be the one to encroach on the silence, and on the distance between them as people. She had said it herself that this might just be an elaborate ambush, or some way he had planned in order to try to arrest her. She knew that, yet her she was, still walking alongside him down the streets of Sultry Heights. He was curious, as she seemed to be, as to why his supposedly natural enemy was choosing to continue her night alongside the knight.