"Thanks," Rayleigh answered, a large smile blossoming across her face. For so long, she had seen Vincent Cain as a best friend, treating him as she might a fellow mechanic in the shop. Yet the past few months had changed something between them, and she was having a difficult time keeping up with the strange new emotions. Six months ago, she probably would have told him he was beautiful too, in a singsong voice that would end in a fit of ridiculously inappropriate jokes. Or she would have mocked him for staring, and maybe punched him for doing so. But lately, his compliments had only warmed her, and she had occasionally struggled to find a comeback. How? She had always been the master of witty remarks, and Vincent had been her absolute favorite target. Whatever was happening, she hated it more often than enjoyed it. In that moment, however, her dislike of all things sentimental ebbed when she looked him up and down.

"Purple, huh?" she asked him, eyeing his colorful vest. When he remained silent, and she watched the flash of panic cross his face, she placed her hand reassuringly on his arm. "It looks nice," came her gentle confirmation. He still said nothing, quite unusual for the chatty Vincent Cain, so she nudged him along. Stepping into the brightly lit hallway, and pulling the door closed behind her with her free hand, she said, "Tell me more about this dinner."