Trailing her or not, Isolde wanted to make it known she was paying attention to her surroundings, even if people thought otherwise. Her brows lifted just slightly — not in surprise, but in recognition. That voice, that drawl, that snake’s charm wrapped in old-time theatrics. “Cendic, love, we've already talked about your choice of outfits,” the blonde mused, taking a step closer toward his direction, eyes taking him in from head to toe.
The smirk that followed was all venom-dipped amusement, “Mm, I don't know, maybe I have, maybe I haven't. What do I get if I help you, hm?” With a small wave of her hand, she made the flame disappear, leaving a trail of smoke in the air between them. “Don't tell me you're after drunk souls now. That's such a sad downgrade. Don't tell me Najeleon is facing a soul crisis now so he'll take anything that comes his way. That poor, poor demon.”
There was a light frown, his eyes turning serpent-like in nature. He knew that voice anywhere. "I thought you were some beguiled blonde." He muttered under his breath. "And I told you, its unassuming enough to get a bite. You know how these degenerate gamblers are." He said with a slight embarassed huff.
There was a look in his eye as he took out what he assumed she wanted. "My scales, I know how you wanted to use these for ....whatever your lot do." He said with a handwave. There was a good reason he didnt curry any magic user's favors- but Isolde was an exception. "Less a soul issue more a pride one." He said with a sigh. "Everyone at ghouliard is practically lusting, it tastes so boozy on the tongue. I need a gambler, someone with a bitter taste of defeat in my mouth." He said.
There was a hum. "Unless you have something a bit more savory- I am very famished." He said his eyes glowing a stark green.

















