Draku would stroll into The Rum House as the bar maid finished completely separating a smoking patron's head from his shoulders for doing so within the establishment, causing him to pause and look down to the lit joint between his lips; slowly stepping backwards towards the entrance and launching it across the street with one quick puff of air. He preferred to remain on her good side, becoming somewhat of regular here ever since he started visiting New York, taking his regular place at the far side of the bar. This night, he went by particularly unnoticed. Not that he minded, the atmosphere here was fairly reminiscent of his cohorts own establishment from back in his time; giving him a sort of relaxed nostalgic feeling that made him feel somewhat at home. With hands clasped before him and both pointer fingers placed under his chin, he opened an eye at the all too familiar scent of a Dhampir coated in ash and blood. He remembered him. Though they never actually encountered each other, he was present during one of his beautifully executed onslaughts on a particularly nasty coven of vampires. It was a thoroughly impressive feat. One deserving of Draku's own respect. He chuckled at the sideways glances the Dhampir received from the others patrons before closing his eye and listening to the bartender request the Dhampir's weapons. He typically gave her, or anyone who worked behind the bar, a moment to deal with all of the other patrons before ordering his drink. It not only gave him an opportunity to sort through his thoughts, but a chance to figure out what he wanted to try and inebriate himself with.

It was only moments after the fact that another voice came from the bar, he didn't bother opening his eyes this time. No familiar scents came from this one. He just sat and listened to him order his drink and the Dhampir relinquish his blades. Draku smirked thinking how lucky he was to never have to carry his own blade, the poor girl wouldn't even be able to move the thing even if she tried. His pistol on the other hand, luckier still that he could keep it concealed. He would sigh before opening his eyes behind the dark sunglasses he wore upon his face, watching the bartender as the Dhampir placed a bill down on the bar's top.