Gabriel smirked- his host was right on that point. This wasn't a place for normal people, of course normal was sort of a misnomer, because there really was no such thing. Still, there were people even more removed from the status quo that others. "That's what I heard. And I thought I might come find out for myself."
He watches the talon scratch, the pointed tip not only lifting the cap without any trouble at all, but leaving the smallest nick in the glass itself- no small feat and Gabriel is quietly impressed. Werewolf? No. He's meet enough of those to know the aura they radiate, and despite the coiled spring of power in the barman's muscles, there is too much control...
He shrugs at the question of experience. He knows he doesn't have to answer- not out of secrecy, but because he has the vague feeling that the man-shaped creature across from him is old enough to have seen some of the world, and be able to answer his own question. Once you get to a certain age, there aren't many surprises left and you know how things work.
Gabriel smirks at the bow, and gestures for Greed to come and join him. He briefly wonders if it's a nickname, a descriptive, but he doesn't ask. And for the moment, he doesn't provide a name himself. There's not need, for the moment, for him to be anything other than an anonymous patron.
"That looks like the good stuff. Join me for a glass." He offers. "And you can tell me know long this place has been here." Because that is something Gabriel is interested to find out. This bar seems timeless, like it sits outside of the current fashions and trends of New York and the wider world, but likewise, he's sure that it wasn't here the last time he was here. Then again, there were a lot of things that weren't here last time.
Greed's eyebrow raised when Gabriel avoided the question, but he didn't need to press the issue. Everyone in the 'Nest had a story and sometimes, it was better not to ask too many questions. Instead, he shrugged - sending one shoulder up lazily in a silent answer. He didn't need to know; wouldn't have to know. Whether or not the other man become a frequenter or not, secrets were secrets.
And secrets never came cheap.
However, his smile split as soon as the other coaxed him on. A flash of teeth riding up one side of his jaw, the twist of it more akin to an angler grinning in the deep, deep depths. He sent one hand up, his fingers twisting to beckon someone on cue. A woman came to his call, her lips thick and budding. She regarded Gabriel with a faint look of suspicion, then decided against it. The Boss knew what he was doing.
At least he did most of the time. "Take over lovely, got business to take care of," Greed charmed back in, his voice sickly-sweet and deadly. A purr held in his throat, riding on a long string of R(s) that stretched on for a few lingering minutes. He slipped past her, grazing the small of her back with his elbow. A warning, a gesture, a conversation:
Keep an eye out for trouble.
The bottle came with him, the neck of it swept up in the thick of his knuckles. He exited along the side, pushing the door ajar with a prod of his hip. A few sharp clicks of his heel and a sauntering walk had him at Gabriel quicker than expected and Greed took the seat closest. He saddled his heel into one of the rungs, reaching blinded behind him for a glass. "Hmn?" He perked, one eyebrow cocked above the frames of his shades. His lower lip sagged before he belted out a quick, hard laugh. It hissed from his jaws, as noxious as the smoke that lingered in thinning shreds overhead. "Longer than most," an answer, but vague.
The bottle tipped into the glass, the opening burping as liquor sloshed and slapped the inside of the glass. Filled to the brim, he sat the rest back down with a heavy thud. "-but if you really have to know, it's been about a hundred years."
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He watches the talon scratch, the pointed tip not only lifting the cap without any trouble at all, but leaving the smallest nick in the glass itself- no small feat and Gabriel is quietly impressed. Werewolf? No. He's meet enough of those to know the aura they radiate, and despite the coiled spring of power in the barman's muscles, there is too much control...
He shrugs at the question of experience. He knows he doesn't have to answer- not out of secrecy, but because he has the vague feeling that the man-shaped creature across from him is old enough to have seen some of the world, and be able to answer his own question. Once you get to a certain age, there aren't many surprises left and you know how things work.
Gabriel smirks at the bow, and gestures for Greed to come and join him. He briefly wonders if it's a nickname, a descriptive, but he doesn't ask. And for the moment, he doesn't provide a name himself. There's not need, for the moment, for him to be anything other than an anonymous patron.
"That looks like the good stuff. Join me for a glass." He offers. "And you can tell me know long this place has been here." Because that is something Gabriel is interested to find out. This bar seems timeless, like it sits outside of the current fashions and trends of New York and the wider world, but likewise, he's sure that it wasn't here the last time he was here. Then again, there were a lot of things that weren't here last time.
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And secrets never came cheap.
However, his smile split as soon as the other coaxed him on. A flash of teeth riding up one side of his jaw, the twist of it more akin to an angler grinning in the deep, deep depths. He sent one hand up, his fingers twisting to beckon someone on cue. A woman came to his call, her lips thick and budding. She regarded Gabriel with a faint look of suspicion, then decided against it. The Boss knew what he was doing.
At least he did most of the time. "Take over lovely, got business to take care of," Greed charmed back in, his voice sickly-sweet and deadly. A purr held in his throat, riding on a long string of R(s) that stretched on for a few lingering minutes. He slipped past her, grazing the small of her back with his elbow. A warning, a gesture, a conversation:
Keep an eye out for trouble.
The bottle came with him, the neck of it swept up in the thick of his knuckles. He exited along the side, pushing the door ajar with a prod of his hip. A few sharp clicks of his heel and a sauntering walk had him at Gabriel quicker than expected and Greed took the seat closest. He saddled his heel into one of the rungs, reaching blinded behind him for a glass. "Hmn?" He perked, one eyebrow cocked above the frames of his shades. His lower lip sagged before he belted out a quick, hard laugh. It hissed from his jaws, as noxious as the smoke that lingered in thinning shreds overhead. "Longer than most," an answer, but vague.
The bottle tipped into the glass, the opening burping as liquor sloshed and slapped the inside of the glass. Filled to the brim, he sat the rest back down with a heavy thud. "-but if you really have to know, it's been about a hundred years."