<strong>Name:</strong>TJ Matautia<br/><strong>Location: </strong>Back Room of the Underworld Tavern<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Midday (ish)<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>All<br/><br/>(http://i827.photobucket.com/albums/zz197/giantmutantcrab/RP/jimmy-bobo-bullet-to-the-head-jason-momoa-foto-dal-film-14_mid1_zpsuyw7yjdk.jpg)<br/><br/>Who ends an evening of boozing with Satyr wine anyway? That’s like finishing a wine and cheese evening with a bottle of about 180-proof moonshine. It’s not the burning sensation of it going down that gets you… It’s the mule kick to the skull three seconds afterwards. TJ’s breathing had been slow and even throughout the short few hours of sleep that he had snatched away from the dying night and the morn after. Even though he was not in the most comfortable of positions, he had instinctively made sure to be well-placed for the rest to come.<br/><br/>Any animal would do the same.<br/><br/>As coughing (and whining) began to stir the others sitting around the large round table to wakefulness, TJ’s head lifted from his heavy chest and he brought his left hand up, thumb and index pressing from the bridge of his nose along his eyelids, brushing the sleep out of his eyes. He blinked once, twice, remaining in his seated position with his legs stretched out, feet along the table. Normally it would be considered impolite to prop your feet up in a public place. But with a place like the Underworld, where supernatural beings were the usual patrons… Well, politeness was completely different. Here, it was polite to not eat the mundane you invite over on a date. So someone getting their boots on a table wasn’t something anyone would do a double-take over.<br/><br/>Wait… They had an observer.<br/><br/>It was information that occurred to him naturally, immediately. The way the air moved about the room, the presence and warmth of a few bodies close together… This other individual, this (apparently) human female, standing and looking at them. He glanced over, raising an eyebrow. The memories of the night before began to clarify as he leaned over, grabbing his full cup of lukewarm beer and taking a sip. He didn’t even like beer when it was ice-cold. To have it at room temperature added an extra layer to an already sad little beverage. But… It was always a thrill for the senses for him to taste or eat anything, really. With his sense of smell, he could almost see each ingredient, each little detail to make a dish or a drink the end result. So he put the cup back down on its little folded napkin, wiping his lips with his thumb and looked back at the woman. Sizing her up and down. Thanks to his<strong>Monstrous Constitution</strong>, he was a lot less hungover than most other supernatural entities would be after a night of drinking and partying. Though they did have some weird-ass shots last night...<br/><br/>[Action: TJ uses<strong>Monster Sense</strong>and attempts to figure out what, exactly, is the woman looking at them.]