Whilst Lyndon made a point of knowing everything that went on in the club (regardless of whether it happened behind closed doors or not), he couldn't honestly claim to remember the very first visit that Nona spoke of. He quirked a brow, though his eyes were still very much lost to the middle distance as they swayed together. Of course she didn't give him much chance to linger on the fact that she had known about him long before he had known anything of her. Instead he found himself grinning at the thought of her taking matters into her own hands and making the first move.

"I get a lot of fan mail..." Was the exact excuse that he had used at the time, and he repeated it now as she spoke about the owls that he had never answered - though whether or not he had actually ever even set eyes on said owls was something that he had never divulged. He rested his lips on the crest of her forehead, where her red hair gave away to her smooth complexion.

"Is that so?" He retorted, though his mind was still stuck on the idea that she had perhaps noticed him long before he had ever even set eyes on her. The notion was off putting somehow, but he never missed a beat, sliding the two across the dance floor with a fluid ease that many of the other patrons had yet to master. "Well I'm glad to hear it." He added after a long thoughtful pause. He turned his eyes downwards to meet hers now. The combination of smoky eyeshadow and long lashes had always been a killer for the man, but he found himself for more interested in the way in which she looked at him. Into him. Through him almost.

Clearly bloodymindedness ran in the Spectre family tree. Both eyebrows raised now as he laughed quietly at her words. She certainly didn't beat about the bush - which was one of the many things that Lyndon liked about her. It was nice to know where you stood sometimes - especially when the rest of your life was all too 'cloak and dagger' to ever be truly certain of anyone and their motives.

He liked the way in which she pretty much commanded him to take action, and wasted no time at all in following her suggestion. The reason that he hated being as tall as he was, was evident as he craned his neck to kiss her now. Four inch heels meant that her brows were level with his mouth, and it took just about all the self control he had not to hitch her dress up, pick her up and wrap her legs around his waist. Of course, fighting that particular set of urges meant that he was left powerless against the desire to flick his tongue passed her lips, or the way the hand on her spine crept upwards to stop the force of his kiss from ruining her balance. His other hand moved to her hip, fingers pressing into the fabric of her dress with an urgency that he hadn't anticipated.

Of course normal business was quickly resumed as the end of the song left a void in the background that Lyndon was quick to pick up on - despite the new fuzzy feeling in his brain. He broke the kiss off only after what seemed like an eternity. "You know, I'm positive my vinyls upstairs have far less interruptions in them..." His bedroom eye game was strong that night, but Nona had never seemed weak to his charm offensives before...

"The Minister send you love notes often?" Her reply was just as quick as it had been that very first night when he'd started to brush her off. She could still picture the loon on his face, the way he smirked as a single eyebrow rose. She thought, at the time, it might have been a small sign he was impressed with her. She could hardly believe she'd been working cases nearly a year now. He was right in a way, she never would have guessed they'd actually end up here.

The undercurrent of attraction had been there of course but she hadn't imagined it'd build into this. She'd been rather preoccupied with various other relationships but over the course of that year she found herself in the Ramora often enough for the undercurrent to form into something more. It wasn't exactly friendship, at least not in the way she was friends with people like Margo or Johann... no it was something deeper than that but they both kept themselves at the shallow end of it.

She wasn't sure why tonight was different, why suddenly the ever present banter was less playful and felt like it were actually building to something. He wasn't as guarded tonight. He wasn't vulnerable by any stretch of the imagination but there was a sort of soft tenderness to him, the way he touched her - restrained but not hesitant - until he followed her advice at least. She a small noise of surprise vibrated in the back of her throat, lips parting as she twisted her fingers in the material of his jacket. She was caught a little off guard by the force of it but reciprocated happily, her other hand cupping his cheek.

She was a little dizzy when he pulled away, heart hammering against her ribs again as she tried to orient herself. She blinked once then twice as her brain tried to decide what was happening because it was not what she had been expecting to happen. She wanted to have some pithy comment on hand, something truly witty but the intensity of his eyes clipped any snarky remark about how it'd taken him long enough. Instead she placed her hand over his on her hip and threaded their fingers together as she turned to pull him toward the nearest stairwell exit.

He had already braced himself for the rejection. Already had the smirk ready for when she smacked him in the face. Already planning the way in which he would straighten his suit jacket when she turned her back on him. Even mentally counted the steps it would take him to get to the bar, and how he would not rush them...

...But the rejection never came. There was no stinging slap to the face, nor did she scold him with a biting remark. No, instead she moved her hands to his, her fingers lacing with his own. He licked his lips, once again savouring the taste of her lipstick. Quietly impressed by the way it had stayed put and not smudged across corners of her mouth the way he had hoped that it would. Clearly he would have to try a little harder.

The next song had already begun by the time the two split from the dance floor. Initially she had led the way, and he had been happy to let her lead him off whilst the prying eyes of his staff were still on them. Soon enough the main hall of the club gave way to the stairwell however, and Lyndon's impatience quickly got the better of him as he pressed her against the banister and store another kiss before overtaking her, his fingers squeezing hers as he looked back over his shoulder at her, blue eyes still baiting her. As though if he looked away from her, the spell would be broken and she would regain her senses.

The winding staircases was fraught with dark spots where Lyndon stole kisses like a thief in the night, which made the journey to the third floor almost insufferably long. By the time they reached his door, his hair was a mess and he had already thanked the gods a thousand times for the fact that he had forgone the formality of a tie that night.

With his back to the door, Lyndon turned the handle and stepped backwards into the room, candles flickering into life as they cascaded into the room. The air up here was cold, and his now hot skin bristled against the sudden change in temperature. "You've never been up here before, have you?" She hadn't, but many others before her had - not that you would ever have guessed it by the pristine sheets or the complete lack of clutter in the decidedly austere looking living space.  It branched off in two directions. One led to a cold white marble and slate bathroom, whilst the other room (to which the door was always kept shut) was Lyndon's bedroom. He was in no rush to get there however. Instead making a show out of removing his jacket as he stepped through the middle of the room towards the balcony doors, to the left of which stood a wooden sideboard. On top of it sat a rather impressive megaphone, and inside the cupboards of the sideboard hid Lyndon's private stash of liquors, but he did not rush to those either, instead turning his attention to a shelf of vinyls that he thumbed over. "What are you feeling?" whether he meant in terms of music or about their predicament in general was anyone's guess.

Nona had realized about halfway to the stairs she didn't actually know which way they ought to be going besides up. She'd heard of the luxury penthouse at the top of the building but for extremely professional reasons had never been. The other rooms were nice, she'd done check ins and causal visits to people she'd placed before. Elke had been the first one to really want to divulge information (not that Nona had been particularly looking). It was hard to even remember the vague details as they raced up the stairs, she was far too distracted by the way they seemed to barely make it up an entire flight of stairs before he was pulling her into his arms for another series of kisses. They were both so lucky she'd mastered ridiculous heels and kissing at a very young age.

If she had been thinking clearly, if those blue eyes hadn't pulled her along she might have wondered if it was always this way. It would be dangerous to let herself think she were special or different than any other person who followed him into the dark. After all, up to this point hadn't the thing that made her most interesting to him been the fact she left him wanting to see her again? There was something between them, something different for both of them but in the harsh light of day would they both hide behind the notion casual was best? Whatever Lyndon's secrets and issues, Nona had her own fears to deal with. She didn't want to fall into the trap of being another Pureblood brood sow. She didn't want to just be a pretty face...

There wasn't room in her brain for those thoughts though because every time he pulled away to lead her up a few more stairs all she could feel was the racing of her heart and the itchiness in her finger tips to be touching him again, more. When they finally reached his door he was looking at her again, gaze still intense as she followed him inside without a word. For once in her life Nona Spcectre was actually speechless. It was a strange feeling but a little bit euphoric. Her body was buzzing with an energy she didn't know how to contain but it was okay because she didn't think she wanted to.

The interior of the suite was impressive, much like the man who had redesigned it. She couldn't help but noticed it lacked the subtle touches that made a place a home. There were no pictures, no mementos of any kind it seemed for what his life had been before. She knew he traveled extensively in his twenties, he'd vaguely mention placed he'd been in passing conversation, yet every single aspect of the room seemed impersonal, beautiful but not lived in. Not a home... again much like the man who designed it. The single exception to this seemed to be the well loved collection of vinyls he was currently thumbing through, half turned away from her.

Closing the space between them she ducked her head under one of his arms and slowly slid her fingers over the starched material of his dress shirt, "Dulcet and a little smokey." Was she talking about her taste in music or the way he unwound her nerves? Even she wasn't totally sure as she tilted her head to look at him, "make up for the dance that was cut so short?" The length of any song wouldn't have been enough to enjoy the feeling of his hand pressed to the small of her back or the faint feeling of his heart beating when she pressed her cheek to his chest. Morning Nona would be terrified by this notion but night Nona just wanted it to carry on a little longer.