"How drunk are you right now?"
The mumbles of distanced voices that gingerly rang in his ears, were something that could possibly be considered as some sort of lullaby to the vampire. The indication and assurance that he was indeed placed in an environment where other voices resided was some sort of a mental implication that he was indeed a part of the society. Solitude and reticent aura were indeed his virtue; but positioning himself in a place where no voices nor implications of other’s presence made him question his existence— it was quite of an whimsical thought, really. Holding such fascination about the idea of confinement yet not being able to completely rid of the quietude.
Slender fingers gently clasped over the stem of his martini glass, the reflection of his rather vibrant red rims around his orbs marking his features. Why, such genteel environment with polished visitors was the perfect placement for Killian’s rather ironic mentality, was it not? Crude demeanors nor interactions were apparent in such a polished bar, and faint chatters of visitors were chaste enough to subtly blur the soft melodies of the piano.
"Black russian."
The male’s voice remained in a lowered tone as he continued to fixate his gaze upon the remainder of his alcohol, catching a glimpse of the bartender nodding upon his request and tipping another glass into his hand. How much time has passed since he took his seat? Not much estimate was given, but the amount of drinks he had consumed amidst his thoughts were quite a lot— small thuds that rang in his head soon parted the male’s lips to let out a faint groan. Resting his chin upon the palm of his hand, his lithe fingers on the other side tapped along the counter; waiting for his next glass of liquor.
"How drunk are you right now?"
It wasn’t the voice that he engaged the sole conversation with since he arrived at the bistro, nor was it a familiar one. The golden orbs that were almost too luminous upon the dim lights soon trailed over to witness the stranger that supposedly made an attempt at engaging a conversation, causing him to quirk a brow along with a subtle smile. How drunk was he? Well, he couldn’t quite label such limits upon his capacity of alcohol himself. Having been a fan of wine and whiskey since years ago, and by that he meant hundreds of years ago— Killian never consumed enough to let go of his mental grasp. The faint throb in his head did hint him that his usual limits were indeed crossed, and Killian only locked on a crooked smile upon the unusual reaction from his body. The male in front of him held such an expression filled with both curiosity and maybe a slightest bit of worry; Killian did linger upon the bar for considerable amount of hours, after all. A low chuckle slipped past the crimson lips, his gaze now entirely focused upon the other’s.
"Not enough to cause a commotion— if that is what you are concerned of, sir."