Tasteless [OPEN]

A woman entered the Rathskeller, her footsteps soft but audible to the Ascended at the table. Lucas, who had been absently prodding at his glass with a long finger in the hope that whoops, it might just tip over, glanced up to track her movements across the tavern. Her appearance saved his drink, and he narrowed green eyes ever so slightly, as if trying to place her. Ah yes. Ah. Yes. The Masquerade. He found himself on his feet even before he realised that she was quite obviously not alright, in her outdoor clothes with icy cold rolling off her in waves. Lucas paused halfway to the fire, half because he had finally caught on to the state of her and half because... ugh, something about the flames these days really unnerved him. He had been born of them, so that was ridiculous. But here he was. "A face as beautiful as that ought to save its tears for a happy occasion," he purred as he drew close, dropping gracefully down to sit beside her. "At least, I assume you are not happy at the moment. Here... you're frozen to the bone." If she allowed, Lucas would reach forward to unlace her boots for her to the point where she could slip them off, before cupping her hands in his own. "Hello, again." LUCAS don't you know there ain't no devil it's just god when he's drunk