For a long moment, Kristi did not reply to her. His attention wandered, swift but observant, over the lengths and breadths of all the club had to offer, although he was careful not to let his eyes linger in one place for longer than strictly necessary. The one thing Kris had truly learned from his life, whether from running, or early schooling drama, or simply life with the boys (and Kat) in the backstreets of Las Vegan casinos, was that there was always someone out there who was bigger, faster, and stronger than you, and more importantly, they usually took offence to being stared at. So, prudence.
When he looked back to Kat, the ice-pale Russian shrugged without an immediate verbal response. He would never admit it, but some small part of him had visually frisked the crowd with the curiosity associated with finding someone who struck him as similar to himself. Of course, unsurprisingly, there had been no bells ringing - although Kris wasn't sure there were any to ring. His father had always said certain genetics bred true in X type of demon. Then again, Mikhail had also said Kristi would never have the magical strength to be a danger to anybody around him. Oops.
"It's interesting," he said, after a moment or two longer; and interesting the club certainly was. It was impossible to get a real feel for a place within only seconds of arrival - especially when one was still mostly sober! "Let's get a drink," the Russian suggested, and made his way through to the lighted strip of the bar.