Asher had been sipping diligently from his drink once more as a younger man came to take advantage of the aura he’d secured around his little patch of bar. Interesting that someone should do so, but not notable until he actually spoke.
Smirking behind the wiry mass of his beard, the alpha set his glass down and looked over, briefly considering Nocturne before letting his posture bend back over his glass.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he began, using the blunt tip of one of his nails to run over the raised design at the base of his tumbler. “But if it were either, it looks as though they don’t work on you.” For a moment, Asher considered adding some venom to the retort, but he figured leaving the threats to a minimum for now would allow him to get a better idea of who this person was. Best not to scare him off immediately - there had to be something interesting about him if he was willing to approach a scary-looking old man in a bar who clearly wanted nothing to do with anyone.
The old man in question took another sip of his bourbon, then set down an empty glass. Another gesture, another double shot. He considered saying more, asking questions, but in the past he’d found of strangers that they tended to offer a little more when left to their own devices. Being pushy made for a creepy stranger, but leaving open ends to sentences and allowing them their own navigation through the conversation somehow seemed to make people more comfortable; more open.
This wasn’t knowledge that Asher had come upon naturally; his skill for reading people was learned rather than innate, but he used it to its full potential whenever he could. And for now, he’d stopped casting his gaze out across the crowd - maybe his prey had come right to him. He considered himself good enough of a hunter for this to be possible, after all.
Smirking behind the wiry mass of his beard, the alpha set his glass down and looked over, briefly considering Nocturne before letting his posture bend back over his glass.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he began, using the blunt tip of one of his nails to run over the raised design at the base of his tumbler. “But if it were either, it looks as though they don’t work on you.” For a moment, Asher considered adding some venom to the retort, but he figured leaving the threats to a minimum for now would allow him to get a better idea of who this person was. Best not to scare him off immediately - there had to be something interesting about him if he was willing to approach a scary-looking old man in a bar who clearly wanted nothing to do with anyone.
The old man in question took another sip of his bourbon, then set down an empty glass. Another gesture, another double shot. He considered saying more, asking questions, but in the past he’d found of strangers that they tended to offer a little more when left to their own devices. Being pushy made for a creepy stranger, but leaving open ends to sentences and allowing them their own navigation through the conversation somehow seemed to make people more comfortable; more open.
This wasn’t knowledge that Asher had come upon naturally; his skill for reading people was learned rather than innate, but he used it to its full potential whenever he could. And for now, he’d stopped casting his gaze out across the crowd - maybe his prey had come right to him. He considered himself good enough of a hunter for this to be possible, after all.
