S'ric took a small sip of the alcohol. He'd had it enough it was more like water now. There wasn't much of a taste, nor was there a burn. Why bother with the drink? Because he drank whatever the bartender served. Sometimes it was vodka, sometimes whisky, and others water. He wasn't picky, paid the same, and only ever had one glass. S'ric only planned on being around long enough to finish the glass, then he'd go hunting, and retire... What's this...
He'd not been paying enough attention, so he'd missed when the new comer had cleared his throat. But now it seemed not only was the elf... talking to him... but glaring. And upset. S'ric glanced to the side, ice blue eyes settling on the elf as he... proceeded to rant. At him. About the gods only knew what. For the briefest of moments, while S'ric stared, those in the immediate area stared as well. Clearly they thought the elf was crazy. No one yelled at S'ric. No one blamed him for anything... and no one demanded anything of him. If the bartender had been keeping his distance before, he was now thoroughly engrossed in cleaning the farthest corner of the bar with a fervor that bordered on obsessive.
S'ric blinked once. If he'd heard anything at all, it didn't register on his face. And when the elf leaned in, still glaring, S'ric seriously contemplated pinning him to the floor and showing him what happened when you snapped at someone bigger than you. The werewolf slowly let go of his glass when it seemed the little elf was done. They were rapidly becoming the center of attention to those in the bar, though no one openly stared. Just keeping an eye out, waiting for S'ric to snap. He was about to say something, but oh, this little elf was not done.
" So. For ruining my night, you can buy my meal for me. Or, you can move. 'Cause you're scaring away the bartender. "
S'ric took a long moment, letting silence fall between them and in the immediate space around them, while he considered the elf. He was slender, which did appeal to S'ric. The eyes were expressive, and while the hair wasn't something too extraordinary, his personality was more than making up for it. Was S'ric curious? Oh yes. Was that a bad thing for the elf? Hell yes. It'd been awhile, 50 years, since the wolf in S'ric had found someone that made it stir. And this snappy elf seemed to fit the bill. As far as S'ric was concerned, he'd just found a new possession. With what would pass for consideration for those around him, he didn't drag Jaks to the floor then and there. He'd let him eat. First. And people said S'ric wasn't considerate.
With a smile that would've frightened a polar bear, S'ric murmured, "Fair enough. A meal it is." Jaks didn't know what that meant, but everyone around him did. So it had seemed S'ric had found someone that had captured his express attention. Despite what that would mean for Jaks, it seemed everyone around him was more... relaxed. S'ric waved at the bartender, who knew this routine. When S'ric was interested in someone, the bartender treated them with the same attention he treated S'ric. Which meant, for the rest of the evening, Jaks would get what he wanted. If the bartender seemed to feel sorry for Jaks, it'd be hard to tell.