He seemed to glare at the bottle as she topped off his glass. A small hesitation arose inside of him, but he would bring the new taste to his lips. It was strong, of course, but nothing he couldn't handle. He seemed to recognize her, his right eyebrow, which two of the scars intersected, would raise up ever so slightly. Soon, he would put the glass down, and look up at this new development.<br/><br/>"Well, 'Curious', my name is Desmond. I guess you could say I fight, but I prefer the term 'survive.' As for me looking at you, I guess it's only fair since you can't keep your eyes off my scar." Desmond's voice seemed somewhat kinder than when he first addressed her. It seemed that offering up alcohol was enough to widen his horizons and make him more talkative, if not a bit friendlier. He went to muttering something under his breath, going back to look at the ice in his glass. Something along the lines of 'Wearing something like that...'