Up close, the strangeness of this man was clearer. When he spoke, she caught flashes of what seemed like fangs. She had more than her fair share of vampires, even kissed one before. It hadn't been the best of first kisses, but she'd at least learned what cold lips and sharp fangs felt like. But this man here, Logan... He was no vampire. His skin was too warm, he was too warm -- she could feel his heat radiating from him, even sitting at the distance the barstools placed between them. And his hair! It was a strange sort of choice, and it made him seem wilder than the rest of his wildness would have otherwise.
With hesitance, Beauty took the highball glass between her thumb and first two fingers, then swirled the ice in the amber liquid. It looked a little like oil that'd merged with water, if that could ever happen. Carefully, carefully, she took her first sip of whiskey.
Her eyes immediately widened. It was a little like tea. The flavor was carried in the taste of the liquid and the aroma that traveled upward as well. Beauty tried another sip, and this time, she was careful to roll it down the center of her tongue instead. That was better still.
"It's quite good," she said, her soft French accent coming out with her delight. But it was the wondering smile that capped it. She looked back at Logan, then smiled a little more. "Thank you, monsieur."
Setting the glass down so that it made no sound on the wood bartop, she gave Logan a searching look. "I think I have not seen you before..." she said. There was a question in the statement, punctuated by the crease in her brow. She didn't know him; she was sure this was the first that she'd set eye on him -- and yet, the pull she felt toward this strange man was stronger than any she'd felt before. He said his name was Logan. But who was he?