"That's only because I haven't tried it on anyone with standards yet," Garrett answered automatically, switching into the breezy, devil-may-care attitude he preferred to adopt before he could think better of it. When his mind belatedly caught up with his mouth, he wished it was physically possible for him to kick himself. "I mean, no, I don't usually-- I'm not--" --a pervert, he almost said, then realized that was probably as convincing as the time he told his mother Carver ate his homework.

"Look, let's just-- let me introduce myself." He grinned at her desperately over the cardboard in his arms, which was a move that usually never failed to at least invoke the pity of whoever he directed the expression at. Then again, maybe that was just Anders, who would probably think even the most scabrous kitten was cute.

"It's Garrett. Garrett Hawke." He offered a hand for her to shake, forgot he was holding a heavy box full of delicate laboratory equipment, and promptly spent five seconds frantically rearranging its weight in his arms before it could hit the floor. He sighed, giving up any hope of a good first impression. "I don't get out much."