<div class="floatleft">(https://mermaidvision.files.wordpress.com/2011/08/33415043.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>Alfred Birche in a fancy shirt (https://i.pinimg.com/originals/26/fe/c5/26fec5036d81c55adf73c16aaab4a700.jpg)<br/><strong>Alias</strong>Leshy<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Dark Wings, The Person With The Dreads, open.<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Party?<br/><hr/>"Blessing to some, bane to others. Something tells me you can handle your drink just fine, though." He took another pull from his flask, exhaled the burn, capped it, stashed it away. "People are strange, when you're a stranger. I like my drinks to be made of herbs." And she might pick up on his own European leanings, because he actually pronounces the 'h' in 'herbs', rather than calling them<em>'erbs</em>.  But otherwise, he seemed to be... vaguely North American.<br/><br/>"Hmm~ I see no problems with that. Always did love Alice in Wonderland." He watched her as she seemed to hone in on someone or something familiar. He didn't quite have the sense she did, but it was easy for him to sort of 'tag along' by following her line of sight, her intent. And when she got to moving, he more literally tagged along with her, staying close enough that they wouldn't get separated by errant dancers, but far enough away to keep the 'personal bubble' from being violated.<br/><br/>"Oh, the mead you told me about, but you didn't mention anything about... smoke." Voice just enough for the three to hear, the music working well to mask it. There is mischief in his eyes, as he seemed more than happy to partake... and would almost certainly reciprocate next time. He really doubted she was up for the chemically enhanced cigarettes, or even those vape pens. Cat instincts, he'd bet on her having ganja.