The first sign Mason recieved that he was much less then alone was that almost grating whining sound that reminded him rather unpleasantly of the sound of long, sharpened nails scraping across a chalkboard, and especially since it was the time of night his powers were heightened, the sound made him flinch in discomfort, tearing his painted lips away from the comforting mouth of the bottle, those eyes narrowing now as they quickly darted to the rather teensy source of such an annoying racket.
What the hell?! Who the hell was this little brightly colored creep and who the fuck did he think he was, thinking he was gonna con his well earned booze away from him? No way, they'd have to pry it out of his dead, cold hands before he gave up his booze to anyone, especially whoever the hell this screwball was.
He bristled obviously, the way his upper lip curled back from his teeth reminded one of a dog protecting its territory perhaps, and one might also notice his canine teeth looked a little long and overly sharp, but perhaps that was a trick of the light? Or even self imposed dental work? This guy looked like the type of freak that might do something like that.
"Get your own fucking booze." He informed the other in a rather deep, growl like kind of tone, seeming to be surilness personified indeed.