[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/necCR92.png[/img][/center][hr][sub][color=darkorange]Location:[/color] The Eye of the Beholder[/sub][hr][hr]

Elio’s smile widened as she leaned in, her eyes bright with challenge. Her words were sharp, even as she played the game with him, measured the silence, charged the air. He watched the way the firelight danced in her eyes like mischief. 

[color=darkorange]“Maybe what helps you helps me.”[/color] His voice was lower, as molten as his gaze. He watched the way her fine scarf rippled under her touch, soft and bright. Her delicate fingers – with just a hint of dirt on them –  captured his attention again. 

When she finally reached forward, those fingers curling around the bottle just below his own, he locked eyes with her again. His muscles tensed ever so slightly in anticipation. His smile revealed a sharp canine tooth, as his eyebrow raised. His grip tightened against the neck of the bottle, his finger brushing hers for a moment. Her words were a liquor all their own, and Elio drank them in. Her soft voice, her focused gaze… he leaned forward, tugging the bottle – and her hand with it – ever closer to his body.

But when she pulled back, bottle in hand, he offered no resistance. The ozone in the air snapped away as she sat back in her seat, breaking their connection. Bold thing, she didn’t even flinch as she took a swig from bottle. 

Elio dropped back into his chair and laughed. It was warm and amused, a departure from all his sly smiles and weighted looks. When he looked back at the woman across the table, it was to reevaluate.

He hadn’t missed the way she’d clammed up around the innkeep – or how she seemed to be actively fortifying her nerves right now, even as she looked at him with a challenge in her gaze, those full lips still glistening with alcohol. Her grip was tight around the bottle. He thought of that dirt under her nails again. He wondered if she had callouses, too. 

[color=darkorange][i]Well done.[/i][/color]

Movement over her shoulder caught Elio’s eye. He glanced up. That woman from before, the dancer, had found a table. All done with her bard, it seemed. The man in question had returned a good deal earlier, striking up the music once again. And now the dancer was sat all alone, a melancholic look on her face. Tryst hadn’t gone as she’d hoped, then? He watched her force a smile on her face in time for the innkeep to slither to her table. His view was cut off, though when the door opened and a familiar figure all but stomped into the building – Aliseth. Curiosity bloomed in Elio’s chest like a stain on a fresh sheet. [i]He[/i] was in a mood. And weren’t all the guards on duty? 

Elio watched Aliseth shove his way through the rowdy tavern crowd. Then he was out of sight. 

He refocused on the woman in front of him. Smile never faltering, he slipped back into their game like he’d never left.

[color=darkorange]“Once again, you mistake me. When did I say pride was a fault?”[/color] He took a moment to look away from her again, as though he were weighing something in his mind. [color=darkorange]“As long as you’ve got something [i]worthy[/i] of that pride,”[/color] he amended. Elio put his hand on the table, fingers splayed wide as he slowly pushed himself to his feet. 

[color=darkorange]“A skill.”[/color] 

He took a languid step, fingers dragging along the worn grain of the wood.

[color=darkorange]“A trade.”[/color] 

Moving along the table, he watched as the firelight wove gold into her fiery hair. He watched the light ripple over her fine scarf. But most of all, he watched her eyes – how the shifting colors darkened as his shadow moved over her, blocking the lanterns.

[color=darkorange]“A claim.”[/color] 

He’d walked all the way to her side of the table now, standing so he was nearly behind her. The hand that he’d been dragging along the table continued its path to the bottle. Calluses scratched over the back of her palm, over her slender fingers, as his hand warmed the space above hers. His fingers curled around the bottle, now stolen twice over. 

[color=darkorange]“You got anything like that? Aside from a talent for assumption and a pretty smile?”[/color] Elio bet he’d still be able to taste the alcohol on her lips. 

He leaned down, his chest to her back. He didn’t touch her – not there, at least – but it was still close enough to feel the warmth coming off of her. When his head was level with hers, he spoke.

[color=darkorange]“You ever need a new pedestal to perch yourself on, ask for the stonemason.”[/color] Elio’s voice was low and molten, like flickering embers. He moved just a bit closer, close enough to smell the fresh scent of her shampoo. He wondered if that was heat crawling up her neck, or just the dim glow of the fire. His breath pushed at strands of her hair. He smirked and murmured into her ear, [color=darkorange]“I promise my pride is earned.”[/color]

Elio lifted the drink from the table and took one last pull before placing it back in front of her. He savored the burn as it went down. Then he straightened to his full height.

[color=darkorange]“Enjoy your drink,”[/color] he said, mirth in his voice. He gave her one last look.

Then Elio turned and made his way through the tavern crowd.

There wasn’t much weaving he had to do. Elio was large enough, and moved with enough authority that most automatically made space for him. Or perhaps he just claimed the space for himself. Either way, the result was the same – Elio stepped through the crowd that parted and reformed around him as he made his way towards the bar. His eyes honed in on the one he’d been searching for: Aliseth, dropped on a barstool, [i]drinking[/i].

Well, Elio decided, now he [i]had[/i] to know what this was about. 

Armando was in the stool next to him (why was this guy fucking [i]everywhere[/i]) speaking with yet another unfortunate woman. Elio caught his eye and leveled him with a [i]look[/i]. The conversation stopped immediately and the spineless fop made himself scarce before Elio was even within a meter of him.

Elio dropped into the newly vacated seat next to Aliseth.

[color=darkorange]“[i]Aliseth Kain,[/i] drinking on the job.”[/color] He sounded almost scandalized. [color=darkorange]“Dunno whether to be proud or disappointed. Wearing you down was half the fun.”[/color] He cast a look over to the guard, taking in his stormy demeanor and the less than sparkling state of his uniform.

[color=darkorange]“Y’look like shit.”[/color]

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[sub][color=darkorange]Interactions:[/color] Thalia Evercrest [@Qia], Aliseth Kain [@Dark Light]
[color=darkorange]Mentions:[/color] Nyla Zafira [@The Muse][/sub]