Hells, what he wouldn't give for a real drink. Not a purtid rat alreay tasting of black rot; not a boar, or a badger, or some unfortunate courier's horse; a drink of hot, fresh life-blood from a living, thinking thing. He's hungry enough that the question stalls him for a moment, and red eyes drift almost absently to the apple of Daan's throat before flitting up to his face again.
Get ahold of yourself, you fool.
"I suppose something is usually better than nothing ..."
His reply seems a little sardonic, though, as does the slight face he pulls at the unlabelled drink of dubious origin. Cazador may have fed his spawn on dead vermin but at least his purse was always kept heavy for his seductions: ply them with expensive wine, make them feel like he only had eyes for them, then seduce them all the way back to his master's palace of death.
No.
No.
Cazador is his master no longer ... but that doesn't mean he can't employ the same methods for himself. He lets the frown melt away into something exasperated yet charming:
"But if you feed me a cup of tavern piss you shan't find me quite so amenable to these little ... night-time chats, in future. Understood?"
no subject
Hells, what he wouldn't give for a real drink. Not a purtid rat alreay tasting of black rot; not a boar, or a badger, or some unfortunate courier's horse; a drink of hot, fresh life-blood from a living, thinking thing. He's hungry enough that the question stalls him for a moment, and red eyes drift almost absently to the apple of Daan's throat before flitting up to his face again.
Get ahold of yourself, you fool.
"I suppose something is usually better than nothing ..."
His reply seems a little sardonic, though, as does the slight face he pulls at the unlabelled drink of dubious origin. Cazador may have fed his spawn on dead vermin but at least his purse was always kept heavy for his seductions: ply them with expensive wine, make them feel like he only had eyes for them, then seduce them all the way back to his master's palace of death.
No.
No.
Cazador is his master no longer ... but that doesn't mean he can't employ the same methods for himself. He lets the frown melt away into something exasperated yet charming:
"But if you feed me a cup of tavern piss you shan't find me quite so amenable to these little ... night-time chats, in future. Understood?"