She pours him a tumbler full of the amber liquid over ice and hands it to him, gesturing towards the plate of sliced lemon and the salt shaker she had to borrow from the dining hall. She naturally kept no salt in her own home. Most dark Fae didn't.
She could sense him trying to decide what to make of her, and more importantly was she a threat. She smelt no fear upon the man and that was refreshing..and unusual. Most mortal creatures were afraid of her even if they didn't understand why. It was to their best interests that they were. She no longer killed for pleasure, or for the simple fact that she could, but her mood was tempestuous at best and caught in a flux of temper..well, anything could happen.
She cocks a dark eyebrow and looks at him directly, the green of his eyes meshing with the blue and brown of her own. "You think I'm working hard at this, do you? I was keeping a stronger block in place for your benefit, Love, not my own. If I really wanted to keep you out, language difficulties aside, I'd just fry your synapses." Her words weren't meant as a threat, more a truth of what could be done if she cared to do so. Sloan poured herself a healthy measure of a single malt and leaned back, savouring the fine blend with pleasure. "I'm far from sweet. It's just another truth. You're beautiful and it does no harm to say so." She kept her face remote and aloof but internally she was somewhat amused. "So the pretty mortal doesn't wish to bed me, or he doesn't know how to react. Interesting." She smirked into her drink, hiding the movement of her lips behind her glass. To him she replied "Both. I've never been with a mortal at all. Female witches I've shared my bed with, but not a warlock. And you? Have you ever shared yourself with one of my kind?"