The thought of taking Tallis on a date was something that never crossed his mind. He was a criminal and was raised by them to. Outlaws. Harley riding, whiskey for breakfast, chain smoking outlaws. How to treat a woman right was never on the syllabus. He nodded and smiled at the suggestion to not raise any eyebrows, and but the thought made his thoughts begin to race. He thought of a few favors he could call in as he lead Tallis to his bike outside. 

"You know," he began as they stopped at a red light, "I only dress up for funerals." He laughed and turned up his radio, blaring Every Time I Die's "The New Black" as they took off from the red light and headed to the house. Jeremy loved the feeling of his bike underneath him and a woman behind him; it was comparable to the sensation of a good high.

As they approached the house, he saw Solomon's bike in the driveway but chose not to comment. Instead, he just hoped he wouldn't run into them. [i]"I'm sure they're busy."[/i] He led Tallis through the house and up the stairs, into his room, and closed the door. "I have a few button ups in the back of my closet, you pick," he said with a smile as stripped off his shirt and sat on the bed.

He unlocked his phone and shot a text to John Cicario, an owner of a nice Italian restaurant in the heart of the city. Jeremy had "scared off" some guys he owed money to, and John always offered to return the favor on top of the money he paid. He never knew what the fuck kind of favor he would need from a slime bag like him. "Hey John. Don't ask. Need something set up on the roof top. Be there in an hour. Red wine and whiskey, please." He looked up to Tallis and smirked. His thoughts brought him back to a memory of a 17 year old Tallis with sand all over her, drinking red wine straight out of the bottle. It was night time, but he clearly could envision how she looked, the wind whipping her long, black hair behind her and the moon shining on them both.