[Center][I][B]Pascale Isadora Buckley[/B][/I]
—[I]♫♪ Je Ne Regrette Rien ♫♪[/I]—[/Center]

Was he offering her the sauce?

Pascale blinked, trying to make do of what he was giving her. With a shake of her head, she took a step back to size him up a bit, determine what kind of person he could be. There was a weird, almost forced inflection on his words, kinda like when a kid has obviously done something wrong, but lies anyway. Then it hit her, the way he acted toward her in particular and the question at the end. He though she could get him the goods. By goods, she meant certain chemical compounds people tended to make to get fixed on, get high off of, make their dreams come to a faux kind of fruition. She was a faunus after all and that was one of the many kind of stereotypes that were often pinned onto her kind. Pascale wouldn't condone such usage of harmful substances, but that was by no means an excuse to harshly berate someone for bad decisions. However, it did mean that she could possibly pull off some elaborate prank in which she could get a few laughs out of, even if the mountain of a man before her could splatter her along the walls. If it mean fun, it would most likely be worth it.

[I]That's a terrible excuse to get yourself killed.[/I]

Smiling brightly, Pascale put both hands behind her back and proceeded to turn on her toes. "I don't know," she nonchalantly mumbled, keeping her eyes on him, "What do [b]you[/b] think it means?" It was just a matter of getting him to fall for it and not catch her mid-prank. The whole pig brains on her head scenario was long out the window. She would never throw out shenanigans simply because she was miffed about something meaningless. Pascale's intentions were that of pure enjoyment that she always gets out of seeing someone's face when they understand they've been played, whether it be one of calm acceptance, extreme anger, or mild sorrow. Though, she did like to anger and irritate people more often than not.

"I know this guy who lives here in Vale, a member of the White Fang. Calls himself the Nezha," she explained, walking toward the storage room now, "Who supplies a few of us regularly with amplified Dust, some chemically enhanced herbs, all that good stuff. He recently gave me a batch of something new. At the moment, it's just a regular chemical name: Miopic Dorphensicate. I think, something like that; he intends to give it some weird street name. I haven't tested it out yet, but if you want to give it a go, then by all means..."

Pascale smiled as the doorway slid open. She leaned against it and folded her arms, "Keep following." With that, she sauntered by a few of the staff and disappeared around the corner.