It was the arrival of the 'newcomer' that stirred Hazel our of her whirring thoughts and back to the present, her gaze lingering on the alabaster figure for longer than what was likely deemed polite, even as she quickly disappeared. It only took her seconds to process and affirm the other young woman was of no threat to the shapeshifter. Or at least not yet. And after listening in on Chance's ever-apparent knowledge, Hazel realized that the albino was apparently the bar's owner, who went by the name of Errol. Curiouser and curiouser. Who was she exactly and how did she run this place?<br/><br/>Hazel lingered behind the bar still, the bottle warm in her hand by the time she poured herself another set of three shots. The amber liquid settled into its little glass containers and stilled as she set aside the bottle. Murmuring a quiet, "Cheers," to herself, she shot them back in quick succession. The burn in the back of her throat was tender and familiar, and it faded as quickly as it'd come. It was then that she heard Brock's question aimed at the general crowd, possibly hoping to hear a few answers. Hazel was not at all surprised when there seemed to be little to no response, her eyes flitting to Brock and quickly away before his can lock onto hers.<br/><br/>There were surely a few who could be considered experts on distinguishing supernatural beings. One of those such people might've been able to guess what she was. But Hazel surely hoped there was no one of that degree around, and that no one else would answer or allow Brock to push the topic. It was a personal thing, an identity. Not that her species defined who she was, but.. her other half was a part of her. Remaining silent until Jim's loud voice cut through the air, her green eyes settled on him instinctively as she chuckled.<br/><br/>"I also patiently await an answer to the food question, but uh, in the mean time," she says, addressing him from behind the bar still, though she's begun to push the bottle and shot glasses across the counter to rejoin the general public. "What makes you so 'very special' besides your alcoholic intake ability?" Her eyebrow raises almost daringly, but it's clear by the relaxed set of her gaze that she doesn't intend for him to divulge anything about his supernatural abilities unless he so pleases. Stepping from behind the counter, she takes off the dark-hued sweater, revealing the tops of her shoulders and the rest of her maroon dress underneath. Abandoning the sweater on the barstool next to her, she begins to pour yet another set of three shots from her bottle.