Desmond would lean forward a little bit, glowing green eyes back at their full fervor. With one of his sharp canines, he would bite his own lip, not yet hard enough to draw blood. His gaze narrowed and he would appear like a true hunter. His gaze locked on to hers, as if trying to intimidate. His breath was warm, lingering with the scent of whiskey as he spoke in a strong, domineering tone of voice.<br/><br/>"I don't often listen to warnings. We could continue to sit here, but my pockets are empty, and I can feel an urge to sleep approaching. As you haven't seen another lycanthrope, I can promise you that my tolerances are beyond anyone you've ever tortured. Hell, maybe I want a little pain, but I know I deserve some of it."