It would be all too easy to become lost in the enveloping heat of the springs, however, the persistent shifting of his oversized companion made relaxation nigh impossible. Each ripple a distraction as it brought gently lapping waves to caress skin. The rumbled laughter of a man who hardly listened only further threatening to sour his mood as it coaxed an ear to turn. Even as that sightless gaze refused to follow, to chase after each crafted tone, it was enough of a sign that he held the starry judge’s attention. An act made ever clearer when a disgruntled hmph coaxed forth a huff of his own to combat the phrases which fought to contradict opinion.
Oh how poorly it was defended, nothing said could pick up for the perceived short comings of Augustine’s drink of choice. A beverage scented to lace his breath far more frequently than he may care to admit. Even now as that hide drifted nearer one could smell the way it clung to his very coat - sign alone that one may have fallen to the wayside. The soothing perfumes of vanilla, the familiarity of sea salt, each all but drowned out beneath the tang of bourbon; yet he would not call direct attention to it. Instead clinging to other matters, of banter, for there was certainty that was not how taste worked.
Something poor in flavor may only incline one to spit it out rather than greedily suck it down without restraint, “So that it does not linger and plague your tongue is more like it.” A tongue clicked in clear disapproval as nails idly traced the rim of a stolen glass even without that growing proximity he knew what was wanted, but Mithras held no intention of handing it over until he was good and ready to. So, for a time, the man was ignored. Focus holding upon the retreating step of the wait staff after demands had been given. They would not mess this order up if they knew what was good for them yet a subtle frown still tugged at the corner of his lips.
No matter how one wished to hold on to this, keep it from his friend’s reach, what the starlight man craved more was not mistaking it for his own whenever a far smoother beverage graced his presence. The taste of fruits and wine a far different elixir than the harshened bite of whiskey and bourbon. While at times he would not turn down the punch of stronger substance, in these moments, he wished for something lighter; smoother and with a steadied breath a glass was slide back in the behemoth’s direction, “But it will be only yours its taste clings to tonight.” For he held no further plans of sampling anything else Augustine ordered even if insistence to give it a try dripped from the other’s lips.
Why try something he knew would not be enjoyed in the moment? But as if right on cue the careful clatter of balanced drink ware resounding in his ears. The slow clink bidding a crown to turn though his reaction time was apparently far slower than the mottled man - or rather, one lacked patience and instead to be as rude as possible in how swiftly he’d snatched hold of a glass long before Mithras had even reached for it. Before he could even think to allow the delicate brush of digits to test the shape of containment.
Another click of the tongue toward Augustine’s lack of tact though even as the judge seized hold of a more fragrant drink he cannot help but to tease, “Do you truly need a drink every evening?” Sure it could be a way to unwind, however, a part of him could not believe that this one nursed a single glass for long. Not with how eagerly he had jumped at the opportunity to indulge. Silently the draconian regarded him as wine gently flowed, filling his mouth in an elixir more desirable. Relishing in the taste before a frame sunk deeper into that embracing heat, eyes half closed as lidded gaze hung upon foolish phrase.
Laughter nothing more than a passing breath as he waved off the possibility, “What a ridiculous thing to imagine this will never be stolen away.” Those beasts would have to pry his beautiful corpse from the lap of luxury, pluck away each thread tangled upon cold dead fingers before he would willingly give it up. But none of that would ever happen. If the wild ones ever made it this far surely more would rise to action in hopes of driving out those invading forces. There was nothing to worry about in that regard - the army, those who had trained their whole lives for this, had everything under control.