[It was as if he hadn't been there just a moment ago; the ever-shifting heads at the bar on a busy night and there were far too many faces pushing the liquor; a petite blond, a rough-looking man with a perpetual frown. Both of which had departed under the swing of open doors and the sauntering gate of the would-be owner.]
[The owner of a joint aptly-named; the Sin gave a knife-cut smile under the beat of the bar lamps - a flood of yellow to turn the whole thing sickly. He curved an eyebrow up above pitch-black shades, motioned a finger to tap at one of the growing collection of bottles the Hunter had mounting. Nail scraped the edge, made for a terrible protest.] You know, I usually don't ask, but - [He trailed off, body moving as if he were entirely boneless; a snap of the spine, a rolling of the shoulders. Gripped in a free hand was a fresh shot of whiskey - filled to the brim and threatening to spill with every jerky motion the homunculus took.]
[But it didn't; instead, it was tossed right up beside the rest of the liquor and Greed rolled back. A wave of motion to send his body jutting over the cliff of his hips.] - eh-, I guess it doesn't really matter, does it?
[The Sin tilted his head, exposed his throat with the sharp-cut shelf of his chin.] Consider that on me - [He said, even as a smile grew wider, showing off the cruelest set of dentistry; like a shark out of water, a blur of a shadow just beneath the surface.]
[Waiting for it's next target.]
[But he merely flipped around on his heel; kicked it out to scuff it against wood floors as he perused his own collection. Fingers out and a shiver of black at the tips - a cruel-cut piecing together of shapes to thin his nails out to talons.]