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[Rumlow shrugs in answer. He gets pop culture references, Twilight and all that garbage, but he's not a 13 year old girl or a middle aged woman, so he hasn't read them. He'll let the topic lie though, Kenzi having brought up something far more important. He looks at her, attentive, even as his tail swings slightly, making hers move with.]

That's... Christ, I don't even know how to address that. [He doesn't want to try and bring up the fact that at least this underworld is still actively sending people between here and there.] I would've thought that'd make you a martyr. Y'know, direct trip to Heaven, but I guess some asshole up there is fickle. I mean, I'm sorry you're dead, but hey. At least you've gotten to me some interesting characters down here. Present company included.

[Rumlow won't play like he's not glad to have met her. She's fun.]

Thanks.

[She's definitely not a martyr. Just stupidly loyal to the point of self sacrifice. When she finds friends, she sticks by them. No matter what. If Rumlow ever needed anything from her, she'd drop all the other shit and be there in a heartbeat. Same with Chase or Boss or Lloyd. The people she cares about are the most important things to her. More important than her self preservation instincts 100% of the time.]

Probably woulda been bored up there anyway. And you know, I'm really glad I met you, too. You're... a really good guy, Rumlow. Seriously, I mean it. [Wait a second. ] When you're not trying to get in my pants. You can be pretty bad then.

[That charming smile goes off again and Rumlow leans in, placing his hand on Kenzi's shoulder. She's so slight, it's easy for him to slide it up her neck, cup her cheek. His thumb brushes over the soft skin, eyes on hers.]

Thanks. Just like to leave a good impression. [His brow quirks up. Yeah, he means both ways.] Besides, you ain't no one to shrug off neither.

[He chucks her under the chin and sits back, hand returning to its place around his drink. He draws it up, sips, eyes looking her over, if only because he can. It's tough not to, she fits his type -- at least, where women are concerned. If he briefly imagines tossing her up onto the bar, she'll probably just think he's admiring her.]

[Her breath hitches when he slides his hand up her neck, but hopefully he didn't catch that. She can't help but lean into his touch, melting a little as she stares back into those brown eyes. Ugh. She's hooked. Sold. This crush is damn near painful.

It practically hurts when he goes back to his drink, and she can feel her cheeks heating up. She does love to be admired. How the hell would he know she's thinking about the same damn thing.]

Jesus, Brock. You're dangerous. One of these days we're gonna have a friendly drink where I don't wanna immediately go home with you, I swear. Stop that! Seriously, knock it off, I'm wholesome as fuck.

[As it often does, her response just makes him laugh, leaning back to keep his head (and his horns) from bumping her as he ducks it down in mirth. He peeks up after, still smiling. Sure, everything is going exactly as he plans it too, but it doesn't change the fact that Kenzi's delivery is perfect. He just likes how her sense of humor aligns with his.]

Somehow I doubt that.

[He says, voice pitched low. What he doubts, he'll leave up to her. Either way, he licks his lips, brows lifting in an entirely suggestive manner. Even tilts his body in just the right way, arm shifting so the muscles flex. He knows what she's about.]

[It's okay. She doubts it, too.

His calculated, little tweaks to his posture has her staring at his arm for way too long before she snaps out of it. Sighing heavily, she tosses her head back and the rest of her drink goes along with it. She sets the empty glass back down on the counter, hard, before she swipes Rumlow's drink and finishes that off, as well.]

Okay, we're done here. Let's go. Come on.

[Her tail untangles from his and she grabs him by the belt, throwing dracos on the bar before tugging him the hell out of there. They might not even make it back to the house. Fuck you, Rumlow. You son of a bitch!]

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