The shuffling of feet came to her, and a bar wench shimmied up as close as she dared to the hooded drow. "From a patron," She informed, gesturing off to a corner where a man waggled his hand their direction. Red irises glanced the wench's way, but she was already scurrying off to the next customer. They then eyed the man, just within the borders of her direct eyesight, and then the offering. She felt like rolling her eyes, disregarding the suitor and retiring to a room then and there, but a second glance at him gave her pause.

She hadn't hidden her entry into the tavern, nor into the great city, yet she still kept her hood over her multi-layered hair, that point always visible hovering at her forehead. Unless someone was directly interacting with her from the front, it'd be more difficult to determine her skin or see that flash of red. What was it that tipped this man off about her, that brought his attention focused on her? It was probably just as simple as a feminine form and allure, but that expression he showed, the way he waved, it wasn't some fantasy that drove him. It was... something else.

He was testing her.

Probes for information were no stranger to the woman, and neither was courtship or romance. They each had their own ticks, their own universal giveaways. She didn't sense any of the lustful ones off the man, at least, nothing that was blatantly the reason for his watchful eye over her. So this was instead a test of purpose, a call to why she in particular was here, and she doubted he'd accept something as simple as her actual reason for being here. It was pretty mundane after all, even to her own standards. There was something else about him though, something that felt familiar. Perhaps it'd become apparent if she took this offering and got a little closer.

What did she have to lose?

With a slight sideways tip of her head giving her a better angle from under her hood, she sized up the man afar a moment longer. He wore no heavy plate or armor that indicated strength as his main asset, which led her to believe he was either a sly rogue or a mage. Both could be dangerous, but then again, so was she. The corner of her lip turned upwards as she recalled her last proposition from a lone and unaffiliated patron. Perhaps this was exactly what she needed during her break away from the constant political warfare and monster attacks up north. Besides, if he decided to try to get under her skin, she'd just live up to her title once again.

The drow pulled away from the bar and swiped the offering with delicate fingers clawing its lip. Those long blades at her hips barely shifted as she came to his table, that skirt of hers in sync with each step she took. Her approach gave pause to another customer of the tavern, forcing him to almost stand at attention as she crossed his intended path. She could feel his tipsy stare as she finally broke her summoner's perimeter and set down that offered drink at the table's edge.

She could feel an aura of power off this one, leading her to believe he was more magical than sneak. It reminded her of an old party member, back long ago, with a penchant for the ladies and power in the magical arts. He was fun, and if this new mage was anything like the old red wizard, she'd certainly find her time spent with him worthwhile. Closer now, she still eyed him, with that long, salt and peppered dark hair and experienced eyes. That scar already told a story that happened long ago, and the slightest of wrinkles under his eyes told his general age. Another human mage, summoning her for some purpose yet revealed. It all felt too familiar.

The woman kept her fingers on the neck of her bottle, hovering at the table's edge opposite of the man. There were plenty of empty chairs nearby she could have sat in, but she chose to stand instead, giving her the appearance of being intrigued, but not bought just yet. She finally spoke, after eyeing the man for several moments, a voice quiet, sultry, teasing, and somehow airy like a snake's hiss. It fit with her overall dark appearance and aura of danger, like a whisper to bed that would instead lead to one's death. "You called?" She asked, speaking in that Common tongue so many here communicated in.