Path of the Vampire forum

Black and white. That’s how she felt. That’s how she dressed. She had spent almost three hours sitting around the Handlebar, watching the influx of people and waiting for any sign of her sibling, Victor. When it became clear that he wasn’t going to show--and it became painfully obvious that her presence wasn’t going to make him appear--she left. She lingered outside the establishment and continued her hopeful little occupation. Clover told herself that she wasn’t going to act so desperate, to hunt the man down, but she’d gone back on her promise to herself. She missed him. He was one of her best friends. Guilt had a funny way of forcing her hand.

Her hands jammed into the unzipped pockets of her leather jacket, she shifted back and forth on her feet. She looked over the heads of bikers and between their broad shoulders, but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t there. And it wasn’t exactly the first time she’d had a silent occupation outside of the establishment. She’d slipped off for a quick visit the night before. She hadn’t texted Jesse then, but she’d texted him earlier. She still had the message saved on her phone:

I went to try and apologize. I’ll be back. Call if you need anything.

Call if you need anything. That’s what she’d said. Sighing, Clover lowered herself back onto the ground; the heels of her boots ground into the stray gravel outside of the bar. As she turned her back on the row of bikes lined up outside the bar, she closed her eyes. She’d told Vic that she’d understood if he never forgave her, but that wasn’t the truth. She’d lied. She didn’t understand why he was taking so long. She’d apologized!

Clo didn’t want to go home yet, not when she would have admitted exactly what she felt. With her refusal to face her guilt and the gaping hole left behind, she continued east, toward Lancaster’s. The place wasn’t unfamiliar. She’d been to the pub before. She’d tried to make it her spot, once upon a time. There were people lingering outside of the entrance, blocking the front door, but she slid her way past them, knocking shoulders with more than one person. They’d called out to her to apologize and declared that she was rude. She didn’t look back, but she flipped the bird. That was her retaliation, the very same endearing reaction she’d flashed family members.

Inside the pub, she weaved her way through another group of people. Apparently, everyone wanted to stay in the pub. Clover saw an open stool and she made a line for the seat. She’d slid onto the seat just seconds before another man had the opportunity to claim it as his own. Her palms were still pressed to the edge of the bar, her thighs barely balanced on the edge of the seat, but she smiled at the college boy and situated herself in the seat. He didn’t try anything with her, not with the way she arched a brow at him, yet he muttered about her, muttered the same exact words she’d heard right before entering the building.

Though she couldn’t drink, she ordered a whiskey on the rocks.

It was hard not to pick up the slight disturbance next to him as someone sat next to him. He barely even glanced that way to see the woman sitting there, barely in the seat and the reaction of the man behind her at having his seat taken. It was quite amusing to him that someone would be so bothered by a seat, it hadn't been claimed and as far as he knew, whoever sat down first was the one the seat belonged to. After all, had someone tried to make him move he likely would have harmed them rather than let them try anything so stupid. After that quiet musing and the quick look though he dismissed the woman seated next to him and returned to the glass of vodka in front of him.

He mused quietly to himself that she had at least appeared attractive but to the current him that thought was quickly replaced. He had found that more and more his mind would only focus on what he had spent the last couple weeks almost exclusively on. His forging. He had begun to slow down while he had worked on that, no longer training and spending his nights hunting parts, only to return home and begin crafting. Even as he took another drink, finishing off the glass to feel the burn of the alcohol inside him. He had come to enjoy that feeling of his insides being eaten even as it repaired itself. It was only as he went to take another drink that he realized his glass was empty and a soft chuckle escaped him as he realized just how distracted he was.

It wasn't like him and even though he had softly let out an amused chuckle it instantly set him on edge. He didn't like leaving himself so unaware and vulnerable and motioning for another glass of the chilled liquor he took his time to look around. He didn't start with those nearest him, they would be easier to look at later and instead he leaned back, watching those around the place but as far as he could tell there didnt seem to be anyone paying particular attention to anything but what was going on directly in front of them and those they drank with. Turning his attention back to the bar and the two on either side of him he found the man on his left seemed perhaps a bit too drunk but otherwise shouldn't be a concern. The woman however seemed somewhat familiar, though he had no idea of her name or where he might know her from.

He took a moment to watch her, he didn't even care if she caught him staring. With such things where he knew he recognized someone but couldn't put a name with a face he was extra cautious. Such things were likely to be the ones most a threat. He couldn't place her though and turned back as he was poured a new glass. He turned slightly then, just enough to be facing her a bit more than right at the bar, at least if something did happen he wouldn't be leaving himself completely exposed but at the moment didn't think anything too violent would happen. Even those from when he was human knew better than to attack so openly in public but he would be a little more careful anyways.

It was only then he let his mind wander again, going over the motions in his mind of his forging process. He knew it was still somewhat crude but he had managed to produce a few above average weapons though nothing extraordinary yet. He would not ask for help of course, not only didn't he know anyone else that forged, he saw no reason to not try and perfect his own technique, something to make his weapons better by his own trial and errors to set him apart from any other weaponsmiths. It would be slow going but worth it and all he oculd do was replay his process over and over in his head as he drank, waiting for that spark of insight to come and show him how he might improve further.

The sounds were layered, one on top of the other, and they expanded out to the walls and up toward the ceiling. If Clover cared, she could have matched voices to faces and music to musicians, but she didn’t care. Lancaster’s had morphed into a distraction, a temporary escape from the memory of the hours she spent at the Handlebar. She’d already begun going over plans to extend her attempts; she had every intention of repeating her ventures to the bar, repeating them until she satisfied herself with her own failed attempts or her single success. Her thoughts were cut short when the bartender slid a coaster down in front of her and placed her tumbler atop the thin piece of fabric. The glass didn’t have any particular design, so she saw right through to the amber liquid within. If she were able to drink, she would have nursed the drink for a few minutes and then asked for another. If she were able to drink.

Clover closed both hands around the glass, her fingers interlaced to form a protective cocoon around the untouchable liquid. She’d done the same thing at the other bar. She’d ordered a drink and lost herself in the mishmash of people. That’s what she felt she was doing all over again. Why had she gone to Lancaster’s? Why hadn’t she just gone home and admitted that she thought she brought ruin to her family? Out of habit, Clo found herself raising the glass to her lips, but she stopped herself before she took a drink. She closed her fist around the glass so tightly that a perfect little crack extended from top to bottom, cutting an almost invisible line through her view of the whiskey.

She might have crushed the glass entirely, but a chuckle broke through the haze. Bewildered, Clo quickly turned to look at the man on her right. No, it hadn’t been him. She shifted her focus to the man on her left. He looked like hell, but every man with a beard looked like hell, in Clover’s experience. Still, there was something about the stranger that offered her some type of comfort. Her eyes traced over the side of his face and realization dawned on her. She recognized him. She never forgot a face.

Clo quickly looked away and crossed her arms atop the bar. She was sitting next to the *********** that had hit her, accidentally or otherwise, in the catacombs. Her anger flared, but she remained seated and staring straight ahead. It had been a long time since the incident, right? Months? The brunette found her eyes straying in his direction again. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted to say something or not. But when she saw his attention shifting in her direction, she pretended to find something extremely interesting about the melting ice cubes in her drink. Oh how they morphed from perfect cubes to mutated circles.

He wasn’t looking away. She knew he wasn’t looking away. Every second made her feel more and more uncomfortable. She felt herself nearing the point when she wouldn’t be able to rein herself in, so she reacted. She had missed the opportunity to catch him actively staring at her, but she matched his posture by turning toward him. Clo started at him as he’d stared at her. She wasn’t backing down.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Clo arched a brow and tilted her head to the side, eyeing him as if she were slowly trying to recall something that she’d already discovered. She wanted to know if he remembered her; she wanted to know if they were going to have a problem. With how things were in her life, she knew she’d take out her gun and start a fight in the middle of the pub. She had almost nothing left to lose. What she had left--who she had left--wouldn’t know until it was too late anyway. “You seem really familiar,” she trailed off, her eyes darkening. “You know, maybe I remember seeing you in the catacombs.”

Her words hung in the air. She wanted to get some sort of reaction from him. And in response to her selfish desire, she focused her energy on her shadow. Her dark outline wavered, fading in and out, and then stretched in another direction. She watched her shadow creep toward him and then she stopped. As much time as it took to control her shadow, it took longer to put it back as it was. She’d wasted energy, but what was a little energy?

He hadn't even bothered to try and catch her looking at him, he caught her look out of the corner of his eyes as she slightly turned towards him. It was only then that she spoke and he turned to look at her, his eyes betraying nothing as he looked at her face, then quickly down and up again before he shrugged, "I honestly couldn't tell you. I know we have never spoken, I'd remember that since I mostly keep to myself." He couldn't very well let her know he knew he knew her face. That thought amused him internally though he made sure to keep his face neutral as he thought, that it wasn't that he couldn't, but that he wouldn't.

It would make sense he would seem familiar to her if she did to him, and a slight smirk crossed his face as he went to speak only to hear her question about the Catacombs. An eyebrow lifted slightly then and he took a slow deliberate drink from his glass to finish it before setting it aside, assuming he might end up not being able to enjoy the rest of it the way he planned. "You know, it just might be that indeed. Though if you find yourself down there then there's no doubt you're like me." He didn't see a reason to play coy once he figured out anyone was a vampire. He had been shocked by his sire, but had seen many others around the city even if he couldn't put a single name to a face, at the very least he had a face.

It was only then he sensed something amiss and his eyes narrowed as he saw her shadow move, it wasn't natural and he could only assume she was like him and while he knew he would have to be careful it amused him greatly. He was very hesitant to use any of his powers, using them only when absolutely needed and even then as a last resort. He simply looked back up at her, a slight smirk on his face as his own shadow manifested beneath him. Normally he didn't bother with it, what did he care if some human noticed? It was easy enough to make it show up if he was asked and let them think it was nothing but a trick their eyes played on them in the dark. Her though, he had a feeling she would notice and that was fine, as it wasn't just his shadow that formed. Slowly it expanded out, surrounding an area around him, hiding him from the prying eyes of humans as the power he had come to know as Assassins cloak surrounded him.

He wasn't openly hostile, even if they wouldn't see him there was no need for it yet but he was cautious and didn't like the thought it might get ugly and leave him fully exposed, he'd let her take that risk. It was only once he knew he was hidden from those humans here that he turned to face her more, his hands going to rest on his legs, not drawing close to his gun he kept in a holster under his pants leg or the knife strapped along his lower back, but he would at least be somewhat ready if things turned ugly and only then did he focus his attention solely on her. "Is there perhaps something that I did that would make you bother remembering me? Perhaps you were one of the dwellings I broke into when I was testing my powers." A small grin crossed his face then as he remembered being questioned about his sudden appearance, "I remember getting a couple complaints about that. People are just wound so tight here."

His reaction had been more than enough. She’d watched the way his eyebrow quirked and the way he’d suddenly found a new passion for drawing on his drink. She couldn’t smell anything over the stench of her watered-down whiskey, so she had to assume his drink was a lighter one, or maybe it was vodka. She didn’t know. Once he’d polished off his drink, she felt her lips twitch for a smile. Suddenly, he had more to contribute to the conversation. His words mattered. He’d made it quite obvious he was a vampire. And yet, she found herself reading his expressions instead of listening to his words. His eyes narrowed and he focused in on the way her shadow sidled up to her, as if it were uncertain it even belonged there.

Resting her right elbow atop the bar, her body angled in his direction, she watched him manifest his own shadow. Unlike her own, his shadows expanded beyond his body and seemed to shield him. He had done more than a parlour trick. He’d acted as if he had something to hide from any prying eyes around them. She could have used one of her own powers, or attempted to use one of her own powers, but she chose to continue watching him. She looked him over for any sign of his weapons. She watched his hands. When she came to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to attack her, she leaned her cheek against her right palm. He’d made a move that shielded any future hostile actions from human attention, but yet he hadn’t drawn a weapon. How interesting.

“If you broke into my house, I would have shot you in the gut,” she countered, the ghost of a smile returning to her pale lips. There was no reason to lie. She’d become extremely honest when it came to her own violent beliefs. “So no, you didn’t break into my dwelling. I believe you stabbed me.” Nothing changed in her relaxed posture; nothing she’d said removed the small smile from her lips. The anger she felt before had been replaced by something different, something that she felt whenever she hunted. She couldn’t give a name to the emotion. She couldn’t define her state of mind. She knew that it wasn’t anger.

By that point, the bartender returned. She didn’t look away though. She nudged her glass toward the bartender and then motioned with her free hand at her companion’s glass. Her mind was often a twisted place, a place that mesmerized her and confused her. So when she found herself with the words on the tip of her tongue, she let go. “I think my friend wants another. Whatever he was drinking. Bring two.”

She knew, without checking, that the bartender hesitated. There was a moment when she thought she’d have to persuade the bartender to get their drinks, but then she’d heard the clinking of glasses and the familiar sound of liquid sloshing about a glass. One of the short tumblers nudged her arm; the other tumbler was sent toward her nameless companion. “I bought you a drink. We’re talking. We’re being good. Now will you tell me what the **** your name is?” As an afterthought, she added, “I’m Clover.”

Her manners were atrocious. No one had to remind her. She knew that she had a nasty habit of being too forward. She had a nasty habit of cursing, one that had blossomed within the past several months. Curse words filled the gaps between coherent thoughts. Clo only wanted to know the name of the guy that hit her. In a moment of painful silence, she heard a familiar guitar riff coming from one of the pockets in her jacket. As rude as it was, Clover just held up a hand and pried her phone free. She had to reply. It wasn’t an option to ignore the texts. She didn’t even want to ignore the texts. When she had satisfied her urge to text, she smiled, apologetically, and set her phone atop the bar.

Holding up that cloak of shadows was tiring, he still didn't have that much energy to waste and that was clearly what it had become as moments later it faded with no chance to use it. He might be willing to fight but he knew he was young in this city and wouldn't just attack haphazardly. That could get him killed. He laughed slightly, though the amusement didn't reach his face at all, his caution not letting him break his focus on the woman just in case. "Well then it seems that it's a good thing I didn't end up in your home I guess."

As she spoke of him stabbing her just a moment later an eyebrow rose in surprise. It didn't seem like something he would do since he had no idea who this woman was or any reason to cause her harm but then shrugged, "If that's the case it was probably just a mistake." He didn't and wouldn't apologize. He didn't feel sorry and saw no reason to lie about it. Chances were it was wrong place at the wrong time, or might have happened while training and fighting something in the catacombs and so for him it was dismissed.

Watching her interactions with the bartender his first reaction was to place his hand over the glass to stop him from having another drink poured for him. It wasn't that he wouldn't drink, just that if it went to waste that would end up annoying him and he saw no reason to allow that chance but upon seeing her relaxed demeanor removed his hand to at least give her a fair chance to talk. As her attention was focused on him again and hearing the way she spoke he couldn't help a slight grin appearing on his face and he shook his head with a laugh, "Ahh such manners you have!" Of course his tone was amused at this point, but if she were going to act that way how could he not be?

"Well then Clover, since you ask so nicely of course I will tell you my name." He lifted his glass in salute to her for the drink and took only a quick swallow of the vodka before setting his glass aside again with an a teasing grin. He meant what he said, he would tell her, but he saw no reason to yet. It was actually something he now knew he might be able to use to get a rise out of her and so couldn't help trying to push his luck and her buttons. Best of all it was both with minimal effort and seeing her pull out her phone knew it was the right way to go about it. After all, if she were asking so rudely then pulled out her phone on top of it? No need to play nice.

Seeing the smile she gave him when her attention refocused on him he gestured with his right hand for her to continue, "By all means, see to your matters Clover," He figured he would keep using her name since she didn't know his in the hopes of pushing more buttons to see the result, "After all, you already bought me a drink so I will at least not leave until I finish it." He looked at the glass and his head tilted back and forth as if trying to figure something out then said with a smirk, "Figure you have at least another ten minutes or so before I finish it off." He watched her for only a moment more before turning back more towards the bar, his left hand holding his glass, his right hand resting on the edge of the bar, his fingers tapping lightly along the edge. He knew he was playing with fire at this point but just couldn't help himself even if it meant he'd get burned.

Edenor was a clever man. He intrigued her. And he had yet to give her his name. Clover had placed her phone aside because she had every intention of focusing on her conversation with the man. She had time. She had a fresh drink. There were reasons for her to attempt to talk to the man, and yet he had kept saying her name. In fact, he’d said her name more than anyone had in years. What the hell was wrong with him? Yes, her name was Clover. Yes, she answered to her name. Had he simply found her name fitting? Had he found he liked the way her name rolled off his tongue? Clo had to admit to herself that her name was quite fun. Clover. No, her name wasn’t that fun.

“At least ten minutes? I can accept that,” she replied, nodding. When she shifted in her seat, she returned to her former position. Her elbow rested atop the bar, her cheek against the palm of her hand. She looked at him as if she were waiting for him to say something extraordinary, but she was simply waiting for his name. They had time. Whenever she slipped into hunting mode, or a mode driven by a single desire, she found she had a great deal of patience. Clover wanted to wait him out. She wanted to prove that she had every intention of learning his name. In her mind, she’d already committed. “If you won’t tell me your name, I can give you a new one. I doubt you’d like it.”

She only said those words to see how he would react. Clover didn’t want to assign him a new name. She didn’t care that much. But if he refused to give her his name, she’d come to the conclusion that she’d stalk him. She liked stalking. She’d follow him around until he eventually grew tired of her, or she’d follow him around until she eventually grew tired of him. Had she really decided to spend her free time following a stranger around, just to get to know him? Better yet, had she really decided to spend her free time following a stranger around, just to get his name? Things had begun to fall into the realm of routine. She needed a distraction. Perhaps stalking filled that role.

“You look like a Jackson,” she judged, a whimsical little smile practically painted on her face. “Personally, I’ve been told I look more like a Trish. But you,” she stopped and sighed, “you definitely look like a Jackson.” She kept her eyes on his face, as if she were actually trying to analyze him. She might have squinted and pursed her lips, but her dark eyes were fixed on him. Clo couldn’t tell if she meant to make him nervous or if she had seriously fallen to the point where she’d enjoyed judging him to discover a more appropriate name.

Her mouth had opened to make another comment, but her phone went off again. She didn’t have a chance to say anything else. Clo didn’t bother holding up a hand. She bit her lower lip and looked between the man and her phone. She couldn’t ignore the phone. What was she supposed to say? Was she supposed to make something up? Clover finally sat up and plucked her phone from off the bar. “It’s my sire,” she explained, the word foreign on her tongue. She hated using that word. Sire. Even though Jesse was her sire, she didn’t like calling him that. When she’d replied to the text, she sat her phone down again. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to answer every time. For once, I don’t mean to be rude.” Clover found her response reasonable.

He was a bit surprised by her response to him not sharing his name which was definitely a plus. It was always far more fun when people exceeded expectations. Especially considering he may have stabbed her and her only response to him not giving his name was to say she'd give him a new one? He had no doubt that anything she called him was something he hadn't heard before. He was just lifting his drink when he heard her say he 'Looked like a Jackson.' It made him snort slightly but was quickly muffled when he finally tipped his glass back for a quick taste and let the burn settle before turning to face her fully again. "Jackson huh? I have to say that is far less a creative name than I had imagined you might give me. At least it's a new one though."

He found her slight rambling amusing, it didn't last long but it was clear she might not honestly know what to talk about with him and who could blame her? What did one say to some random guy you don't know, that stabbed you and you hadn't seen again until you had to talk to them? For that matter what was he supposed to say to her? He took it in stride though and shook his head, "I don't know about Trish but if it suits you then I suppose it suits you. I will stick with Clover though. At least it is more unique than Trish."

He found her looks towards him amusing as well and while not intimidated in the slightest he found his own eyes watching hers with just a hint of amusement as he considered her and the way she looked at him. After a moment he smirked and tilted his head slightly towards his right shoulder, "You know, when you give me looks like that I can't help but think you have some thoughts in your head jumping around about me." He knew his next words would likely be wrong but it might press her buttons and he couldn't resist pushing them. "Let me clear a few things up for you. No I won't go home with you so don't bother asking. I will, however, let you buy me drinks whenever you want and come chat any time...."

It was then her phone went off and he saw her look between him and it before settling on it but couldn't help but find the way she bit her lip a bit attractive. Of course he wouldn't act on any kind of impulse or anything even if that were the case and seeing her struggle to find the words to explain the situation he could only shake his head, "You owe me nothing in the way of apologies or explanations. You came to me and wanted to talk, it can be as much or as little as you like. You could be talking to your long lost lover that you enjoyed that one time a bit too much and are hooked on, your sire, or anyone else and it wont change this one fact: It doesn't matter. I am here still at your request and offer of a drink use my time however you wish and talk about anything or nothing and I will just be a silent drinking buddy." He knew as soon as the words left his moth they might seem a bit harsh but there was no callous tone, it was to him a statement of fact. He didn't care if the phone conversation was more important, he was only there to drink and talk as she wished and not the other way around.

Oh yes, he was certainly clever. His words cemented her opinion of him. Jackson had a way with words that left her both amused and, dare she say, quited pleased. He’d understood the roles in their conversation. She had her own responsibilities and she took them in stride. Her phone came first, and he’d accepted the fact. He’d accepted her rudeness and even embraced her manners. Clover liked him. In fact, she’d already decided that they would have more meetings and more conversations. He wasn’t aware of her thoughts, but his awareness, his knowledge of her opinion, meant very little. Clover had laid claim; therefore, Jackson belonged to her. He was her friend. At the thought, Clo couldn’t keep the mischievous smile from her lips.

“I like you,” Clover admitted, the smile still firmly in place. She’d decided then that she would continue with her words. His appearance and their conversation had lifted her spirits. She’d almost forgotten about the time wasted waiting for a former friend that clearly wanted nothing to do with her; she’d almost forgotten about the fact that she’d entered into the pub only to prolong her nightly adventure. “I think you’re my new friend, Jackson. And as tempting,” she paused to stress the word tempting, “as it may be to take you home, I’ll refrain. It will be difficult, but I can manage. And you should do the same.”

Playful. Biting. Some people couldn’t handle her sarcasm. Some people couldn’t handle her at all. After she spoke, she watched him and waited for his reaction. She hoped for laughter, but she would have settled for an equally sarcastic remark. That was her test. Clover was testing him. Her words were the pokes and prods that she needed to find her way through the situation. She felt around with quips and navigated with implications. He seemed like the type that could handle her personality, and that’s what she wanted. That’s what she needed. She needed to expand her network, but she was highly selective. Or maybe she wasn’t all that selective. She’d decided a total stranger was her new friend. Clover chalked it up to the fact that some people just clicked.

“I can say I won’t be much of a drinking buddy, since I can’t drink, but I’ll listen to you as well? I can offer you shitty peanuts, like a quality bartender.” Her words were aimed like daggers, sent in the direction of the unaware bartender. Weren’t bartenders supposed to lend an ear? Vic lent an ear. Kenny lent an ear. She’d only encountered employees willing to listen. And then she’d stepped into Lancaster’s and expected the same kind of service. Even if she didn’t want to talk, she expected the bartender to pick up on her troubles and offer her some kind of comfort. Her expectations were unreasonable, at best.

Her thoughts focused on the bartender because they didn’t need to circle back around. Jackson had, unknowingly, zeroed in on a subject that she was uncomfortable discussing. A lover that she’d enjoyed too much. Or rather, one she was still enjoying, one that was waiting for her. The words had immediately made her shift in her seat, and they made her shift around all over again. She seemed antsy. Whenever her thoughts went back to his words, the words which were aimed as well as her own, she felt restless. Did everyone know? Could everyone tell? Clover pretended as if she were simply itching to do something, as if the atmosphere made her want to escape. After all, crowds eventually fed her anxiety and fueled the need to flee.

Well it seemed that at least the woman liked to use his 'name' which made him smirk a little as he turned to face her again. An amused look came to his eyes as she spoke of liking him. He had no doubt that it was simply that he held her current interest, much as she did his but to pass up such a chance to tease her a bit? Never. Before he could even say anything though she had added on the bit of seduction in the way to spoke of him being tempting to bring home. All in good fun perchance but he wouldn't let it slide, this was too easy to play with. With a shake of his head he said softly with every bit of the smirk on his face bleeding into his words as well, "Oh you misunderstand. I simply meant I wouldn't go home with you. You may be buying my drink but that doesn't change the fact that were that the case you'd still be coming home with me." A bit much? Perhaps but it was also truth as he wouldn't go home with her but under the right circumstances may allow her to come with him.

It was only then that he paused and grabbed his drink and finished it. Already he knew he couldn't drink any more and knew the only reason he hadn't been sick yet was that the straight alcohol usually kept his insides burning in just the right way that he wouldn't immediately be sick but now there was almost too much of the burning liquid to keep down. Sliding his glass away he concentrated on himself for a moment, forcing his body to obey him and keep the liquid from coming back up and so far it was cooperating still. Once that felt taken care of his attention returned to her just in time to see the way she acted towards the bartender.

It made him laugh, and it was a rather bitter one as he said softly, "They are this way with me because any time I come here I make sure to tell them to leave me be. I don't want their feigned concern, their empty smiles and politesse. I prefer that I am left to my own devices and when I want them I call them. It is easier that way for me honestly." The look on her face though as she seemed to suddenly become uncomfortable made him give a faint smile as he realized what he must have said. "Ahh it seems I learn about a new sensitive subject that touches you in just the right way. Though at least it makes you wriggle like that which isn't so bad a thing to watch." The last was said with a very soft snicker, his eyes lighting up as he finally found something he could tease her about that might sting a little.

He had always found great pleasure in making others squirm, especially when it was nothing but words as they seemed to get under peoples skin more than action ever could. He wouldn't press too hard yet though, after all, scaring her off would help him in no way at all. Instead he turned to face her fully and tapped his fingers on his leg, not in impatience but just to keep his hand occupied, "It could be worse though I suppose. Could have gotten me slapped or much worse for bringing it up at all. I'm curious though because of it but will wait til you decide to get me all alone and to yourself before I ask more on this subject." It was an out, and perhaps an invitation but even he wasn't sure how he meant it an absolutely no idea how she might decide to take it, "Enough of that though aspect of this lovely Clover in front of me. Instead, what brings you out tonight? Surely you weren't out solely hunting for that random guy who stabbed you once in the catacombs?"