If there was one thing Clay hated, it was getting used or walked over. It rarely ever happened twice. On this occasion however, be it because of the booze he had been drinking all day or simply the entrancing hypnotic movements of her hips, he didn't mind getting used as a step and would gladly allow it to happen again,     and again. 

It took him a moment to gather his thoughts and finish his drink as the near hypnotic effect wore off. With a groan his chair scraped across the floor sharply as he stood to his full intimidating height. He had been called many things throughout his life and while most were aptly true, a viking biker best painted a picture of his muscular, broad shouldered, tattooed body. 

He had often romanticised about the ancient viking ways until he remembered that they hadn't discovered the motor engine yet and then the thought of using a horse as a method of transportation quickly made him happy to born when he was. Almost forgetting why he took his first staggering step, his pale blue eyes scanned the room and then he remembered. Spotting the dancer take a booth Clayton casually strode over to her, causing at least one or two others to hold their seats, having not moved as boldly as him.

With a boldness or perhaps arrogance, he took her ordered mead from the bar and went to her booth, giving a well practiced roguish grin as he arrived. His pale blue eyes found hers and were rimmed with the faint signs of intoxication, but by his gravely carefree voice, one could not tell.

"I haven't seen you around here before, and I'm sure I [b]would[/b] remember if I had. Mind if I join ya?"

Before his question had even finished rolling from his lips, he seated himself across from her and placed down her drink.[@Assallya]