The haze of the liquor had all but abated as the glass was taken from him. The abruptness and strange nature of the man honestly caught Zakarius off guard, staring openly from beneath his hood, amber eyes taking in the stranger’s features as he went into a state of meditation. It was strange to find such traits in a world like this anymore, for he recognized the naivety of the man’s actions as of a learned man. Whether ignorant from solitude, or uncaring from confidence, he did not know, but he felt he would soon find out.

Then the sent hit him, raw and unbarred, but inches from his face. Up until now he would simply stare at the other man, not listening to the words of the other men, as they seemed disinterested as of late with him being there. So, when a being of ability or power feels unthreatened, he would go about his way with little care. 

I.e. Zakarius here and now.

But the blood, acrid and metallic in his nose and on his tongue. It was spilled with malicious intent by the one who’s soul had the darker streak to it. This brought Zakarius back to the world at hand, eyes focusing upon the exiting man. The others approached him, for now their intended target was dead, they were not sated, as their senses were roused for violence. His every muscle was on alert, left hand having already fallen to the leather book at his waist. His lips moved silently, as his fingertips slipped through the leather, just passed his nails. 
The Drow was silent, seemingly unmoving as they approached him and the other, his eyes closing. “So much life…” He whispered to himself, watching every footfall of each approaching man. His mind was alight with seemingly random words of different spells, keeping every syllable in mind as each beat of every heart hammered before him. Then, the strangest thing, light, lavender-hued smoke, drifted lazily from the hem of the man’s cloak, pooling slowly at his feet. 
“Bar’s closing it seems…” He whispered halfheartedly to the man beside him, eyes opening once more. The white had given way to a soft pink, the glow too weak to even be noticed, yet they began to ooze the strange purple smoke, the tendrils wreathing slow circles around his body.