He shook his head, that same sweet and sultry curl on his lips. "Not usually, no and even if I had a roster of princesses and sleeping beauties," a bent knuckle caresses the underside of her chin gently, "Their beauty pales in comparison to the great Madame de Pompadour." Angel could be sweet and romantic, could spin words if he was so inclined and Reinette always called to the older side of him. There were times he had to fight not slipping back into ingrained practices.