Lucius remains quite silent throughout Atella's speech, and the only motions he makes are to tense up quite harshly at her touch, as a cat might recoil from a strange new cat in its house, and then to narrow his eyes at her offer. He only relaxes slightly once she finally returns to her section of the club, by which point he's restarted the process of glancing round the bar area. For the most part, it seems that the only interesting arrivals in that time were a man of no obvious notability save for the massive Ogryn that entered the room with him, one muscular enough to perhaps give Lucius himself a run for his money in a contest of brute strength, and an apparent rarity given that Ogryns tended to be quite loyal to the Emperor's cause. Either a pet or a subordinate, the Angel decides, and it seems that either way, the man was smart enough to manipulate the brute into Chaos worship, given how it hadn't yet balked at the sight of so much Chaotic activity, and indeed almost immediately lurches toward the fighting pits. Presumably, then, one of Tzeentch's acolytes and a Khornate warrior respectively. Either way, they'd probably not represent much more interest to him than they already had.

By contrast, the man the damned Astartes had noticed spying on him was somebody he'd want to deal with sooner rather than later. He isn't convinced that this person hadn't eavesdropped upon his conversation with the veiled individual who'd offered their time to him, and he frankly isn't comfortable with the idea of somebody having the upper hand on him in the first place. That wasn't how it worked. [i]Lucius[/i] was the superhuman. [i]They[/i] were subordinate to [i]him.[/i]

And he reminds himself to reign back on that train of thought once again. He is well aware of how disastrously insane many worshippers of Chaos could become, in the form of gibbering madness, psychotic may-or-may-not-be-hallucinations, or egotistic, over-arrogant belief that they were above the mere rabble, when the truth was that all were subordinate to their dark masters. Even so, the Fallen Angel had had to remind himself not to fall down the latter path more frequently as time went on; the promise he'd made to himself when he'd first been ejected on to Ephron V had been a false hope from the start, and seemed ever more impossible with each passing interaction, each bribe, extortion and murder, but Lucius wants to at least keep himself in-tune enough to keep hold of the lever on the grenade that is his own sanity.

But for now, he has a pressing issue to deal with. Having discreetly kept an eye on Sanath as he pretended to read his book, and confirming that the man was, in fact, glancing up at him every so often, the Angel quite abruptly stands up, moves across the bar, and sits back down at a different stool, now separated from the spy by a single empty stool left between them. Just in case. The Angel clasps his hands together, resting them upon the surface of the bar as though nothing is wrong at first, then ever so slowly tilts his head in Sanath's direction, until he is looking at him directly, almost but not quite a glare at his apparently-dazed features. Heavy chem use is evident in the man from this close up, judging by his complexion. Kalma, most likely, and probably lho sticks too, semi-affordable as they were. The effects of substance abuse are prevalent in the hives, and Lucius has established how long-term users look, smell, and act a while back. Nearly quarter of a minute of examination elapses before Lucius speaks, an uncomfortable length of time for the situation, but ultimately, with a voice like ice, the Fallen asks the drug-user 'Can I help you, sir?'