When Evan returned from ordering breakfast (another twenty in the drawer, with the change in the tip jar), he took a moment to take a sip of his coffee and sigh happily before focusing on Bree. "Did you just ask me if I'm broke and homeless and make counterfeit money?" he asked. "Usually I don't get that personal until the second date at least, but if you're curious..."
He started ticking off points on his fingers. "No, I'm not homeless, yes, I suppose I'm 'broke' since I don't have a social security number, which one usually needs to have a job and therefore income. As for the bills, the bank this particular Starbucks uses is owned by a pack of dragon princesses who rip off their customers anyway, so don't worry about it." He held up a fourth finger thoughtfully. "And the smell, of course. Most mortals don't bother with their noses, so I don't worry much about it. Apparently I'll need to be more careful when you're around."
He took a sip of his drink before leaning forward again. "So now I've answered your invasive questions. Is it my turn?"