[i][center][color=8882be][h1]  ༒ ༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻ Kaelen Moros ༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻ ༒ [/h1][/color][/center][/i]
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Kaelen's dark eyes snapped down to the bottles in the barkeep's hands, his gaze narrowing slightly in thoughtful appraisal. This stranger knew his alcohol—and not just in a casual, weekend-bartender sort of way. The ease and smoothness of his movements spoke of time spent behind the counter, a mastery honed through countless nights of pouring, mixing, and serving. He had clearly mastered his domain here, and Kaelen could see it in every fluid twist of the wrist, every precise clink of glass against glass.

Looking up, Kaelen shot the stranger another wide, wolfish grin, a dangerous glint sparking in his eyes. Not the kind of danger that promised bloodshed or broken bones—the more playful, intoxicating sort, the one that danced on the edge of mischief and left hearts racing for all the wrong reasons. "[color=8493ca]So,"[/color] he purred, his voice a low rumble that cut through the ambient noise like velvet over steel, [color=8493ca]"can I put a name to your face?"[/color] He watched the barkeep with unmasked curiosity, leaning forward just enough to invade the man's space, his posture radiating an effortless confidence that dared anyone to back down.

[color=9e005d]"Jason,"[/color] the other man replied, his tone steady and unperturbed, extending a hand in greeting as if this were just another ordinary exchange.

Kaelen's grin only widened further, stretching across his face like a crescent moon in a midnight sky. Ignoring the offered hand entirely, he snatched up the first shot glass and downed it in one swift, practised motion. His eyes widened at the satisfying burn of the liquor sliding down his throat—a fiery trail that warmed him from the inside out, chasing away the chill of the evening and igniting a familiar spark in his veins. It was smooth, potent stuff, the kind that whispered promises of oblivion without the cheap bite of lesser brews. Instead of shaking Jason's hand, he set the empty shot glass into the barkeep's open palm with deliberate care.

[color=8493ca]"Well, Jason,"[/color] he hummed, his voice dripping with amusement and anticipation, [color=8493ca]"you're on."[/color] Kaelen had figured out early in life that one of his only true talents was drinking. He could hold his liquor like a champion, outlasting most grown men who dared to match him glass for glass. It took more than a few rounds to turn him into a fully drunken mess, his tolerance a fortress built from years of hard-won experience and reckless nights. But the night was young, stretching out before him like an open road, and he had nothing but time on his hands—time to test this Jason. The bar seemed to pulse with possibility, and Kaelen leaned back, ready for whatever came next.