The Den was always packed, even on a slow day it was usually filled with werewolves and werewolves all had keen hearing. Even now, Mars could see a few heads begin to turn toward the bar where he stood and Rafael sat.
Despite the seriousness of the accusation made by those few short sentences, the siren's expression barely changed. In fact, the only change now discernable is one of utter confusion, pure and genuine. It's such a sharp and sudden turn that this once light banter shifted into that the siren can only lift his brows, incredulous, "Okey, ya mebbe had one too many of dem beers den it seems."
The siren reached for one of the bottles and turned it around to observe the label, checking the alcohol percentage. "How about a coke?" Mars suggested coolly, "'Er mebbe some water?" This was a thing that no one could know about. Only one. Only Ry could know. Anyone else knowing would be dangerous. It would disrupt and destroy the life they were building. The siren needed to proceed carefully, thoughtfully, smartly if he was to preserve their lives as they knew it. "Ya wanna lay down in da staff room? There's a fairly comfortable couch. It's got a few lumps in da cushions but it's alright." First step, get the guy out of ear-shot of the werewolves in the bar. This was not a conversation to be had in public.
if anything, the way mars proceeded only further fuels the fear that rafael feels, the dog that lives underneath his skin snarling to get out and stop whatever was happening from continuing. he isn't drunk, he knows what he's seeing and that they don't lie. the dead don't lie. they can't - they're fucking dead and an admission of a guilt the guy behind the bar doesn't want to admit. much easier to make it out that he's drunk too much even though the alcohol content in bud light is barely enough to get any werewolf buzzed.
rafael has been dealing with this enough to self-convince that he isn't crazy. that ghosts are all connected to the people they hang around somehow.
"why the fuck would i follow you?" it's astonishing to raf that he'd even ask such a thing. to follow him to the staff room for...what? what? dark eyes are cold. a single thought; you could 100% take him in a fight, rafael.
