It was ever the disappointment, dwelling in a bar with company that might have been more suitable for the monster that lives under your basement stairs. No, no. That might have been company far too civilized for the men I worked with on a regular basis. Perhaps the most pertinent kind of company they could keep rooted around in dark alleys, serviced by a different kind of my talents than my professional exterior might lead anyone to believe I was capable of. Capable I was, though, much to their lack of knowledge of my vices. Internally I had appreciated my own skill and expertise in the professional field as well as the darker one that took it's place once the day's business hours waned but with the company of my professed coworkers, there was very little I wanted to celebrate. While they had been drinking, I had been counting the moments until my time was my own once more and I could leave their presence to find my own space to fester in, to mull over the promotion and new job in peace. The bar offered brief reprieve from the absolutely stimulating intellectual conversation offered by my cohorts; a reprieve I was only too happy to indulge myself in when the opportunity arose.

Though I had been served a glass full of a spirit I appreciated more than the bland attendance circling our table, irritation settled on the surface of both my lips, my expression, and the surface of the liquid itself as the callous yet unfortunately melodious and sultry voice of possibly the most exquisite, poised woman I had met wafted towards me as if baiting a remark that might have been waiting for her like a dog at the end of a chain. Had I any self-restraint, my words may have not reached my lips in such an instantaneous fashion, but... That would never be the case. My self-restraint resembled the tumultuous way the clouds rolled over each other ominously alerting all those below of the impending storm: read, non-existent. Rowena's features remained unreadable for another long moment as my replies met her ears until a shadow of amusement surfaced in her emerald eyes, allowing me some semblance of what the witch felt in that moment. Humor? The stone woman cracked? A faint smirk began to touch my lips, enabling me to find a retort worthy of her sardonic replies to my haphazard words.

"And here I was, thinking you might recognize Armani when you saw it. How wrong I was."

One of my eyebrows raised casually as if threatening her stature as a poised, well-educated, tasteful woman who would surely know her clothing. Indulging in a slow sip of my drink, I relished the bitter taste of the scotch as it poured over my tongue in an attempt to rid myself of the distaste breeding within me as a consequence of my company for the evening. Though the blonde witch provided far, far... There aren't words to describe the company she offered in comparison to my coworkers. Casually inclined to listen to her stress her inherent dislike for my attire, I gently leaned my side against the bar, content to raise my glass to my lips to savor whatever remark she had prepared for me next. That was to say until the pitiful sound of a man in awe rose it's filthy head above the music and conversation in the restaurant, just asking for attention from the woman standing in front of me. With his nearing-greasy hair and his narrowed, too close together eyes I couldn't find any words that would render him attractive or complimentary. Then again, he didn't really deserve kind words as his interruption was unbidden and sullied whatever game I had initiated with Rowena. I found myself exhaling whatever breath I had inhaled hotly, irritably clenching my jaw as he stuttered through his words in order to offer Rowena a drink. No, you vile miscreant, she does not want a drink from me, much less the likes of you. You're more than welcome to piss off and fall into whatever trough of manure you arose from.

As the pale sage of the blonde witch's eyes fall upon my own crystalline azure gaze, a certain level of understanding seems to bud between us. As her gaze lingers, held in the embrace of my own for a moment too long, it becomes more evident than blue sky on a sunny day that she has some intent for the stranger. And when I turn to get a better look at him instead of merely seething over his existence with his presence to my back, I too am enabled a look at the asinine, confident smile that plagues his decidedly pig-like features. While I may have liked to clobber his head onto the bar with little effort, my Shadow decidedly creeping along the far wall in order to help with this plan had I so surrendered to my derelict desires, it is with a maleficent grin that would offer him every cause for worry that I gently placed my hand on the small of Rowena's back before tracing the tips of my fingers over the curve of her neck in a feather light, gossamer touch that was truthfully rather harmless, but enough to elicit a jealous glare from the man in front of us.

"You most certainly may not. What makes you think she might like a drink from the dredges that you've surely arisen from, let alone offered to her by anyone?" Had I been any more irritable, my words might have been sullen but as it stood, they were tinged with more than a hint of disdain as one of my eyebrows rose in kind to the lilt of my voice. " If you showered, doused yourself in comet cleaner, perhaps then you'd be ready to attempt hitting on her but as it stands... You'd be better suited to coming onto a cow."