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"Something's got into these people's heads," he said; taking the glass brought by the barkeep and motioning to him to get another one already, because by the time he'd finished doing so that one was already half gone. "They think they're heroes or something... too many kids stories."

"These people don't know what they're getting into. The only thing for them to save the world from is each other."

"Bah."

He finished the glass in hand and snatched the other one away from the barkeep before he even had a chance to set it down.

"The hateful bastards can do whatever they want with their world... it's when they start messing with other ones that someone needs to knock heads."

Within a few seconds the fresh beer was gone as well, and the glass was empty on the bar.

"They want something, they kill someone. They don't want something, they kill someone. They meet someone different, they kill him. They're sick of someone familiar, they kill them. These people hate everything, even themselves!"

There was a displeased grunt, and a hand slamming repeatedly onto the bar calling for another drink.

"...just what right do barbarians like that have to pass judgment... eh?"

"There's nothing wrong with it."

He reached for another when it came, but didn't start drinking yet.

"People die all the time, there's nothing wrong with killing someone. What matters is why. If you kill someone because otherwise he would kill you, that isn't wrong... if you kill someone just because you want his horse..."

Then he drank.

"These people have their values all up-side down."

"Beh."

He tipped his head back, and the beer with it.

"If a man has murder in his heart his own life is forfeit."

There could be more to say, but it wasn't worth the words to say it if she understood it already. It wasn't a complicated thing, not at all. People just assumed that it was, when it is actually the most natural and instinctual thing there is.

She'd be right. Most would expect a mugging, or some thug, but no. She got a void creature, a beast of a man, about six foot four, built as if he goes to the gym regularly... Swathed in darkness, his skin was a dark blue, with hair of snow, and dressed simply. A white peasant's shirt, held closed by a leather string. Below, loose, leather slacks. Arms held vambraces over the forearm, silver, and simple.

"You search for your Lady... Sierra her name, I believe, and I tell you this. You'll not find her until she wants to be found. She has wished herself into un-existance, a place within ones self. A place of darkness."

He wasn't a threat, Unarmed visibly, except for those hands that crossed his impressive breast. Eyes were yellow, and glowed, standing impressively from the dark, dark male. Upon inspection, he radiated this darkness in black mist.

"Nothing, to be terribly honest."

He'd jump, dropping down to the street with so much as a flinch, maintaining his stance he had taken, His right heel, planted firmly to the instep of his left foot. A ballet stance, to the skilled eye. Something taught to fencers.

"She stepped in as I was leaving. I saw an opportunity and I took it. She's scared, I think. Speculation, you must understand. I gleaned little in passing."

His beauty was nothing, really, in this world of evolution, of difference every day. But he sure was a looker. Human in appearance, the difference laid in everything that made him different. Hair, skin-tone, those eyes...

"Your search should not continue, I suggest. Instead, prepare yourself for her return, and test your steel against the enemies you gauge a threat."

He smiled then, a thing of perfection again, quickly harvesting into a grin of white.

The beast smiled, and took a graceful bow, Right arm coming to waist as he extends his left to the side.

"Nexxus, At your service, Dame Kimiho."

The bow is held with silence, for three kept seconds, before he returns back to his straight stance, arms acrossed his chest.

He would draw off with a soft laugh, revealing the pin-point of fangs.

"I feel that you find me a problem... Perhaps we should make it so, to liven things?" Words are followed by a step, another, swift.. He'd rush her, perhaps running odd, left fist over right shoulder, His body cocked to the side with it... Backhand? Perhaps. Right hand coveted beneath left elbow, right elbow neatly bearing his right bicep parallel to his torso. Vambraces gleamed, beautifully.