<div align="center"><strong>Xias Donovan - Observing</strong></div><div class="floatleft">(http://i388.photobucket.com/albums/oo321/xceilingcatx/SPAvatarMask-1.jpg)</div><br/><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=89494.msg3952989#msg3952989">Quote from: Kirinis on 29-11-2010, 23:58:12</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">He then gestured for the bartender, "If he's paying then I'll have a whisky neat, and a glass of hot milk on the side."  Daniel looked at the others, "A quirk of mine, in all my travels' a good glass of milk is always hard to find when I'm not in the civilized parts of the world"<br/></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">Funny.  The man with the long hair must have thought that he was paying for all three of their drinks.  It would be rude to simply ignore one of his customers, however, so he stood up from the stool and advanced back to their side of the counter.  He stood there, silently, trying to figure out how he could convey to the long-haired man that he was mistaken.  Finally, he came to a decision in one short moment.  As the Americans' gestured it, Donovan rubbed his forefinger and middle finger together with his thumb.  Money.  It wasn't great since his leather gloves stuck a bit, but it got the message across.  As a bisexual, Donovan had nothing against other men, but it was <em>only</em> for women that he covered the bill.<br/><br/>Then, something odd and unexpected happened.  He spoke - quietly, yet with firmness and subtle power behind his English accent, <strong>"You're not Selena."</strong><br/><br/>If that didn't get the message across, he didn't know what would.  Without further ado, Donovan turned around.  Needless to say, he'd be happy to get the man a drink, but he wouldn't until he acknowledged that he had to pay for it himself.  Instead of going back to polish the glassware, Donovan leaned back against the counter closest to the piano to listen to Kissinger's work.<br/><br/>It was a song that wasn't in his tastes, but even he recognized Kissinger's talent.  This was a good time for a break.  The night had not been hard so far, but why not relax for a bit.  Part way through the song a woman's voice broke in with the piano player's.  Who was it?  It sounded familiar but he couldn't say.  He turned his head to see Marie, just catching a pleasant glimpse of her long and beautiful legs.  These girls; they were always a tease.  At least everyone around him was having a pleasant night so far.  Well, excluding the ever-brooding Max who was already taking his leave.</span><br/>