With a lazy hand, he lifted his bourbon styled glass, offering the orcess a toast. His golden gaze intense, steady and controlled as he regarded the maiden who was so well build for war. With his back leaned against the bar, and both elbows rested upon it's wooden surface, it put to display the fact he was a willow of a man, with awkwardly broad shoulders. What could be seen of his attire, as he wore a number of grey, black and off white cloaks which covered him completely, were the sleeves of his leather vestment. Several straps and buckles crisscrossed about it, clasping into the elbow length gloves, fingerless to leave exposed his sharpened to claw digits of bone. The knuckles studded with metal nubs, a small contraption of a spindle and spring mounted under each wrist.<br/><br/>He made no effort to get up and join her, and neither did he flag her down. Instead, he just relaxed there, watching her dance as any spectator would. Seeming content to admire her form, her art... The art of a dance not his own...<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>