One of the perks of being a god of the Celts was, in fact, the brogue that colored his dialogue, even if it had softened considerably over the years. And Manannan was quite are of the effect it could have on an individual. Of course, with mortals, they practically shivered to bits for him. He relished the opportunity to do so at any given time, but when it came to others as old as himself - maybe older - he knew there was a very real chance it would have no effect.
The twinkle in her eyes told him that there was a definitive effect, and that grin of hers was one he wanted to see again. Inhaling deeply, he sat back slightly so he could lean against the bartop. He caught a whiff of something exotic, but he couldn't place what. He was a man of brine and piney woods, not of where she probably called home. With a measured movement, he watched her as she flagged down the bartender smoothly, his own drink back in his hand and to his lips. He rolled his gin and tonic around in his mouth as she turned to face him fully, and he felt a pleasant itch on the back of his neck. Her full attention apparently involved an honest appraisal of his features. Fair enough. He was certainly not intimidated by it, though. He enjoyed the full attention of others. Whether it was to bark orders, give instruction, or coax a lover into bed, Manannan enjoyed having all eyes on him when he felt the desire.
As she mentioned the waters, his eyes were scanning down that long, lithe body of hers, then back up just as slowly. Caution probably would have been prudent, but he was too damn old for caution when it came to a conversation. He had nothing to hide. He'd be hard-pressed to find any one of the Tuatha De Danaan in this bar with him. Chances were, she'd stumbled in here much the same way he did.
Bast. Suddenly, the hints of recognition all clicked into place as she extended her hand to him, the name as tempting as the touch. Manannan's smirk was roguish and genuinely pleased. He didn't bother to hide that he recognized her. In fact, as he took her hand, calloused fingers running along the inside of her palm, he pulled her a bit closer and kissed her hand.
"Pleasure to meet you, Bast. I wasn't aware cats liked to swim." His breath ghosted against her skin before he sat up straight, lingering before he let her hand go. "Manannan Mac Lir. But, call me Mac, everyone does these days. Full name's a bit of a mouthful." Oo. Poor choice of words, because now he was thinking all of the other ways he'd prefer their mouths be occupied. Perhaps it had been too long since he'd had a bit of fun.
"And believe me, I'm old, not refined. This close to Puget Sound, well," He shrugged and drained his glass. "If the salt in the air doesn't roughen you out, the tide certainly will." He tapped the edge of his glass on the table and winked at the bartender for another drink. His impossibly blue eyes slid back over her direction. "What about you? You strike me more as a sun and fun girl."