His grip eased just as soon as the bottle crashed to the floor, splintering into fragments of broken glass that had the patrons and passerbys stepping away with nervous looks glanced at both the bar’s owner and the woman who had caused the disruption. Isadore, who tended the bar, glanced up from where she was serving one of the patrons, a pale man dressed all in black who sipped a hot toddy with a blank stare on his face, then shook her head with a small smirk. She and her electric blue shock of hair wound her way around the side of bar with broom in hand the moment Pace led the dark haired woman away.<br/><br/>Once the Jackal had marched her back into the darker, less noisy confines of the back of the bar and his foot curved around the door to what was more a closet than an office, he released his grip and leaned against the door while gesturing to a chair shoved into the corner of the room, caddy corner to the beat down desk that had also been shoved inside the tiny room. A computer hummed on top of the desk that was also littered with papers and a cheap lamp cast a dim glow on what looked like a comic doodle that was face up on top of the desk. To the right, a filing cabinet took up one corner, while an antique globe took up the other. Behind the desk, a map of indiscernible nature was tacked to the wall and a bulletin board filled with menus from across the world hung on another wall.<br/><br/>“Sit down. Let’s chat.”<br/><br/>The toothy grin that the Jackal sported narrowed down to something less intimidating now that she had the opportunity to meet him face to face.<br/><br/>“Unless you prefer to be bent over the edge of my desk first. I really don’t mind obliging that particular threat.”<br/><br/>He had quicksilver eyes - or at least his eyes were a pale enough grey or blue that they appeared to gleam like mercury, or silver, or something just as shiny. Pale enough even that the whites of his eyes tended to bleed into the iris depending on the light, or cast an eerie glow if caught in another way. His dark hair was short, but not so short that it didn’t stick up every which way, haphazard but also charming. Though with the shifting of the overhead light as he moved to take a seat behind his desk in a worn swivel chair, the door locking behind him of its own volition, shades of mahogany, and a hint of flame, and other shades started to stand out. A five o’ clock was starting to grow along his jaw, crawling up his cheeks and heightening the definition of his face; the strong jaw, the high cheek bones, the devious slant in his stare.<br/><br/>By anyone’s standards, he was a handsome bloke.<br/><br/>Further defined by the physique heavy with muscle, sculpted like a runner, though most was hidden under the black tee with a bright yellow smiley printed across the front. Only the broad shoulders and biceps that bunched together when he leaned forward to better look her in the eye gave any indication.<br/><br/>“I don’t think you want to go down that rabbit hole with me when it comes to kinky,” came his retort, now that they were settled. The chair he sat in creaked loudly as his weight shifted in it Pace leaned back as far as the chair would allow and folded his hands across his abdomen. One leg lifted and settled across its opposite knee, his sneaker dancing to its own beat. “But at least you know you did something wrong. No bar fights. No grudges. You leave that at the door and can pick it right back up once you both step foot out of my waystation.”<br/><br/>The grin on his face stretched again, a trick of the light, an illusion to make him look more like the beast that he was called after. “Do you really want me to send you somewhere? Or do you want to make a deal?”