The loud and boisterous noises bothered him, making the splitting headache he had even worse than it initially was. Oh, how he would love to stand up on one of those shaky tables, and with his light, almost airy voice, shut them up with a piercing scream. How he would love to see their shocked expression, to drink their fear as he would the sweetest nectar.
Think about it. How often did people see a creature such as himself? A creature of not very impressive height, with those to-die-for regular features, framed by the shaggy midnight hair that fell down to his shoulders. His gray eyes were sharp and radiated a strange sense of danger, the sooty eyelashes gave him an air of innocence that was so inexplicably out of place.
The boastful man was irritating. Very irritating, indeed. Alessandro, for that was his name, absently wondered if the guy had ever countered a real daemon, a full-grown one, with the mysterious powers that mortals could not even dreamed of. A small smirk blossomed on his face, making tiny creases at the edges of his mouth; he would teach the gentleman over there a lesson, yes, when he could get him alone. Such a pity that his pretty hair would be dyed with crimson.
More wine. He needed more wine, even though that wouldn’t help the headache at all. You win some, and you lose some, he mused, and gave a soft chuckle at the thought. Now, if only Monsieur Vivren would shut the…
Think about it. How often did people see a creature such as himself? A creature of not very impressive height, with those to-die-for regular features, framed by the shaggy midnight hair that fell down to his shoulders. His gray eyes were sharp and radiated a strange sense of danger, the sooty eyelashes gave him an air of innocence that was so inexplicably out of place.
The boastful man was irritating. Very irritating, indeed. Alessandro, for that was his name, absently wondered if the guy had ever countered a real daemon, a full-grown one, with the mysterious powers that mortals could not even dreamed of. A small smirk blossomed on his face, making tiny creases at the edges of his mouth; he would teach the gentleman over there a lesson, yes, when he could get him alone. Such a pity that his pretty hair would be dyed with crimson.
More wine. He needed more wine, even though that wouldn’t help the headache at all. You win some, and you lose some, he mused, and gave a soft chuckle at the thought. Now, if only Monsieur Vivren would shut the…
