09-02-2013, 07:50 PM
Suddenly, the menace retreated. Curiosity glinted the corner of Jaxen's eye while the pup pawed over. He lost it, Jaxen thought initially, recalling the frustrating difficulty with which it was to strangle the power, and the disappointment that followed when it was gone. Jax almost felt bad for the guy. Until remembering whatever he'd cast across the room burned near afterimage in Jaxen's retinas. As though on cue, his eyes narrowed. Yes, he was going to have to remember how that was done.
The kid was clearly drunk, but Jaxen made no effort to help him bear the burden of extra alcohol on the way over. At least he had the decency to buy a guy a drink first.
Jax tightened his grip in their handshake to the point of crushing the kid's spindly fingers. Jon had quite the accent, American, definitely. Though Jax wasn't familiar enough to place him to any one region. But geography wasn't his strong suit. Casing potential marks, now. That was something Jax could do in his sleep. Though it was for pure ego. To know everything about a man just from a brief one-two, kind of a thrill, and it told him who to keep a close eye on. It's not like he'd lifted something off an individual guy since -- well. White's lighter -- Shit that was funny. Could have done without the hit to the head though.
So. Jon. The guy's brief interaction with the bartender meant he had a tab running, which meant digital transfer and remote access to cash, which meant he was carrying a Wallet. Jaxen's gaze drifted casually to the most likely pocket in question. There was no discernible demonstration of cash anywhere else.
The man's smile toward Oriena was hardly innocent. Shit, Jax knew better than that. A spike of jealousy distracted him from measuring up this kid any further. Who was apparently another member of Tony's cult. Even if he didn't realize it yet.
"Allow me,"
Jax interrupted them both and pat Oriena fondly on the knee to stop her from being a terrible waitress again, though when he withdrew his hand from her leg, he hovered on her expression a tad longer, both to gauge her reaction and to imagine her in a new light. Jon's compliment on this being her establishment was to blame, and Jaxen smiled, downright approving of this turn of events. It certainly explained why she was such a bad server.
His thumb broke the seal on the bottle which the bartender's knife had sliced through earlier -- seems Kallisti wasn't in the habit of letting customers ring their own knives through wax seals, probably wise -- and went about filling three glasses of ice while he explained. "Oriena here,"
he offered Jon her name on her behalf, "needs some help getting her hands dirty."
He looked at her from the corner of his eye, smirked playfully as though he might be willing to show her a thing or two, and squeezed the life out of a sliver of lime.
A few moments later, he pushed one Jon's way. As it was a handy moment to comment on something else, Jaxen gestured at the man's wrists when the dull gleam of silver would have caught anyone's eye. "Nice cufflinks."
Amused, he offered the second to Oriena. "Try a real drink sweetheart."
His mood diluted the masochistic tone from the suggestion, but the playfulness to his gaze remained. He really wanted to get her alone.
Finally, Jaxen swiped the final glass, resumed his seat and caught himself before lifting a foot, glanced at the table briefly, then repositioned his shoe to cross over to the opposite knee. Call it superstition. And took a taste. A perfectly stirred taste. This was going to be fun.
Edited by Jaxen Marveet, Sep 3 2013, 07:02 AM.
The kid was clearly drunk, but Jaxen made no effort to help him bear the burden of extra alcohol on the way over. At least he had the decency to buy a guy a drink first.
Jax tightened his grip in their handshake to the point of crushing the kid's spindly fingers. Jon had quite the accent, American, definitely. Though Jax wasn't familiar enough to place him to any one region. But geography wasn't his strong suit. Casing potential marks, now. That was something Jax could do in his sleep. Though it was for pure ego. To know everything about a man just from a brief one-two, kind of a thrill, and it told him who to keep a close eye on. It's not like he'd lifted something off an individual guy since -- well. White's lighter -- Shit that was funny. Could have done without the hit to the head though.
So. Jon. The guy's brief interaction with the bartender meant he had a tab running, which meant digital transfer and remote access to cash, which meant he was carrying a Wallet. Jaxen's gaze drifted casually to the most likely pocket in question. There was no discernible demonstration of cash anywhere else.
The man's smile toward Oriena was hardly innocent. Shit, Jax knew better than that. A spike of jealousy distracted him from measuring up this kid any further. Who was apparently another member of Tony's cult. Even if he didn't realize it yet.
"Allow me,"
Jax interrupted them both and pat Oriena fondly on the knee to stop her from being a terrible waitress again, though when he withdrew his hand from her leg, he hovered on her expression a tad longer, both to gauge her reaction and to imagine her in a new light. Jon's compliment on this being her establishment was to blame, and Jaxen smiled, downright approving of this turn of events. It certainly explained why she was such a bad server.
His thumb broke the seal on the bottle which the bartender's knife had sliced through earlier -- seems Kallisti wasn't in the habit of letting customers ring their own knives through wax seals, probably wise -- and went about filling three glasses of ice while he explained. "Oriena here,"
he offered Jon her name on her behalf, "needs some help getting her hands dirty."
He looked at her from the corner of his eye, smirked playfully as though he might be willing to show her a thing or two, and squeezed the life out of a sliver of lime.
A few moments later, he pushed one Jon's way. As it was a handy moment to comment on something else, Jaxen gestured at the man's wrists when the dull gleam of silver would have caught anyone's eye. "Nice cufflinks."
Amused, he offered the second to Oriena. "Try a real drink sweetheart."
His mood diluted the masochistic tone from the suggestion, but the playfulness to his gaze remained. He really wanted to get her alone.
Finally, Jaxen swiped the final glass, resumed his seat and caught himself before lifting a foot, glanced at the table briefly, then repositioned his shoe to cross over to the opposite knee. Call it superstition. And took a taste. A perfectly stirred taste. This was going to be fun.
Edited by Jaxen Marveet, Sep 3 2013, 07:02 AM.