10-19-2009, 11:47 PM
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There was something unsettling in the manner she carried herself—something that did not sit quite well with the male. Perhaps it was in the manner she nervously licked her lips before pouring him a glass of the whiskey as he closely watched her every action. “How about you enlighten me?” he inquired lightly, picking up the glass from the bar and inhaling the pungent odor of the liquid within. The alcohol masked anything the drink may have held, smelling only sharp and normal. Crimson gaze remained sharp, observing every detail of the woman before him and searching for any sort of foul play—though he already held the poison unknowingly within his fingers. He watched her like a hawk, saying simply, “And what makes you think I’d prefer whiskey to vodka myself?” He smirked faintly, coyly watching the girl as he sought his mind for what she might be playing at.
He wasn’t yet inebriated enough to make foolish decisions, and so set the shot glass back down on the counter with a faint clink. Instead, he reached for the vodka and tipped it back toward his lips. Taking a deep drink of the acrid substance, he wrinkled his muzzle as the vile taste entered his senses. “Not quite tasteless,” he muttered, placing the bottle back down and leaning toward the fire-pelted woman. “But I do know what would taste quite delicious,” he grinned, running his tongue along the edge of his lip in a manner quite contradictory to the female’s moments earlier. A well played game and a few drinks would be required to fool the male into sheer stupidity.
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There was something unsettling in the manner she carried herself—something that did not sit quite well with the male. Perhaps it was in the manner she nervously licked her lips before pouring him a glass of the whiskey as he closely watched her every action. “How about you enlighten me?” he inquired lightly, picking up the glass from the bar and inhaling the pungent odor of the liquid within. The alcohol masked anything the drink may have held, smelling only sharp and normal. Crimson gaze remained sharp, observing every detail of the woman before him and searching for any sort of foul play—though he already held the poison unknowingly within his fingers. He watched her like a hawk, saying simply, “And what makes you think I’d prefer whiskey to vodka myself?” He smirked faintly, coyly watching the girl as he sought his mind for what she might be playing at.
He wasn’t yet inebriated enough to make foolish decisions, and so set the shot glass back down on the counter with a faint clink. Instead, he reached for the vodka and tipped it back toward his lips. Taking a deep drink of the acrid substance, he wrinkled his muzzle as the vile taste entered his senses. “Not quite tasteless,” he muttered, placing the bottle back down and leaning toward the fire-pelted woman. “But I do know what would taste quite delicious,” he grinned, running his tongue along the edge of his lip in a manner quite contradictory to the female’s moments earlier. A well played game and a few drinks would be required to fool the male into sheer stupidity.