[hr][hr][color=Firebrick][h3][b][i][center]Clayton Radshaw[/center][/i][/b][/h3]
[center][b]Location: London, some dirty old alleyway.[/b] 
[b]Interacting With: [@shamrocknroll].[/b][/center][/color][hr][hr]
 
Clays stomach grumbled as he looked up at the lady through blinking groggy eyes. There was a small pause of silence as he just stared at her, a playful daring grin spread across his lips. With a groan he picked himself up off the floor and placed one hand on the brick wall behind him and the other heavily on her shoulder for support. 
Despite the obvious impedance from either his hangover or injuries, or both, the man seemed to be enjoying himself. He didn't seem to catch the tone or intent of her words. Instead he looked to the sky as he had a small stretch. It was cut short as he stumbled for balance and came to lean heavily on and close to the lady.

Now that he was awake and leaning close against her his eyes capture hers. Deep and intense. He whispers [color=lightblue][i]"You have such beautiful eyes, we should get a drink sometime. Don't suppose you have a spare fag?"[/i][/color] with those words his grin grew into a full blown teasing and charming smile. A smile that was well practised and rehearsed. A smile he was well aware of.