He strokes over her arm again, this time downwards. His smile is flirting, sinful. His voice is almost a song, a low thrumming purr like the sounds he had made during one of the songs they recorded together. "This is a punk club, and that means I can do whatever the fuck I want. Punk is thumbing your nose at what's proper and expected. So, if I wanted, I could take you and we could do the rumba. All we need is the proper beat. So, care to join me in the pits with the rest of the demons, my angel?"