Inclining his head in the barest of nods, the undead drew to sit upright, fingers still gripping the rim of his glass from the top, as he raised it in half toast, and display. "I'm good." he stated planely, voice a rough, husky sound. The outline of his shoulders, through the capes and cloaks, did not move save to speak... Unless talking, he did not breath. Slowly turning in his seat, he sized her up more openly. From here, sitting with his shoulders squared, it became apparent he stood a good head and shoulders over her. Golden ghostlight eyes boring into her own with a silent, threatening power. His other arm was hidden under the cloaks, as were his legs and torso. "And I could say the same, of yourself." What little skin showed around those eyes, thanks to the hood and scarf, was a roguhed up, lightly blueish tone...<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>