Ianthe found a blush creeping into her cheeks as the lust-filled thoughts of various bar patrons conjured sticky fantasies forth from her own id.<i>No</i>, she chided herself, and pointedly buried the embroidery her mind was idly placing on her liaison with the Grey driver, the better to focus on the bartender -- neither his lust nor his fatigue, but his suspicion. Giving him her sweetest smile, she paid for another drink, and half-asked, half-observed,<span style="color: mediumturquoise">"Busy night?"</span>while trying to locate the mind of patron that had unsettled him.<span style="color: mediumturquoise">"You seem a little, I don't know. Guarded, I guess."</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>