Fenris happily agreed, and gave him the bottle. But as he took it, she noticed the red smear on his hand. Her ears went back in concern.
"Are you alright?" She asked.
"Did you cut yourself?" Her eyes were studying the man now, noticing he looked...well, sick. All the joking was gone from her demeanor. She bent down under the bar, and grabbed a shot glass and a glass bottle full of green liquid.
"You're dying," she mused. She poured out a minuscule amount into the shot glass and slid it across to him.
"Drink this," she said.
"It should help with the blood."
She grabbed a bottle of whiskey and quickly refilled a patron's glass and then came back, towel slung over her shoulder. She sat on a bar stool next to him, tail swishing behind her.
"Listen, I don't know why, I don't even know who you are, but there's just something about you..." she trailed off.
She sighed.
"There's this artifact, rumored to give long life, among other things, to those that find it. And I don't know why, but my instincts are saying to tell this to you, so I am." Inwardly Fenris was screaming at herself.
"And I know, you're probably wondering what else this artifact offers and what this woman could get out of this. Well, I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not exactly completely human," she said, gesturing to her ears and her tail.
"It's because I'm a werewolf, the last of my kind. My family, my clan, were all massacred. By who I don't know. I plan to find out, hopefully along the way to find this artifact. But this artifact also promises to cleanse the world of some evil, of what, I cannot tell. But I think the world could use some help." She handed the man another towel. She sighed, and got up, rubbing her ear.
"If you need anything from me, more medicine, more drinks, I'll be behind the bar."