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Haven Atte was his name. It didn't ring any bells, so she stopped scrutinizing him so closely. It was no one she knew. Still, this Haven seemed to be in pretty bad shape, malnourished and exhausted-looking. It was a painful reminder of a time she'd hoped to forget about, but never seemed able to escape. "Nice to meet you too, Haven," she replied softly, folding her hands politely on her lap as he rummaged through his clinking bottles, seeking a drink for her. As he moved about near her, she tested his scent - the acrid smell of alcohol clung to his fur in waves, and she tried not to crinkle her nose in distaste. There was something underlying it though - a pack scent, perhaps - that tickled against her memory. Perhaps she had some connection to him after all.
"Everyone deserves good manners," she said, offering him a small, bitter smile as he denied her formality. "But don't feel bad. Out here, nobody knows who we really are... we can be as kind or as cruel as we like, and it won't disappoint anyone. It's not like I know who you used to be, or as though you know me as I was once, either..." She had always appreciated the anonymity of the neutral lands, and had been known to slip away here from time to time to sort her feelings, and take a break. There was only so much that scent trails could expose, so other than what pack you call home, you could be as invisible as you please.
Coli gingerly accepted the fancy bottle Haven offered her, and chuckled, seeing that he had chosen one that looked so special. If he didn't deserve to be called 'sir', then surely she didn't deserve a rare drink. But to prove the truth to her statement, she delicately unscrewed the top with her claws, whiffing at the powerful contents within. It had been mere days since her first bout with wine; this was something stronger, and she had only just shed her hangover. That didn't matter, though. She'd need the help to spill her guts, if she wanted to talk about anything at all... "I've... been there too, y'know. It sucks."
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