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[h2][center][color=7bcdc8]Rowan Kimb[/color][/center][/h2]
[center][img]https://i.ibb.co/tKC0dBf/Rowan-banner.png[/img][/center]
[center][url=https://i.pinimg.com/564x/1a/5a/07/1a5a07bc75e997a85c973e002f66f5af.jpg]Fit[/url][/center]
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Rowan is seen coming out of the restroom area, moving towards his table with a raised brow as he sees Killian crowded. [color=7bcdc8]"Something the matter?"[/color] He moves to stand in front of the table, eyeing the wrists and then Killian's demeanor.

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[h3][center][color=f6989d]Killian Velvet[/color][/center][/h3]
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The older Conan looks to Aethel grabbing his wrist, tightening his own on Killian's before seeing Rowan now there. His eyes narrow before he lets go and wrenched his hand out of Aethel's grip. [b]"No. There isn't."[/b] With that he's escorted out.

Killian leans back after letting out a soft breath. He pulls his sleeves back, after undoing his cuff link. It's already started to bruise. He clicks his tongue against his teeth lightly and fixes his sleeve again. He clears his throat, picking up his empty glass. He didn't say anything to anyone, just leaves to go get another drink. 

He hates how easily it is to identify that he's an Omega. This place even has scent patches! He leans against the bar for a moment with a heavier sigh and then looks to the bartender. He gives them his glass, asking for another one.