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An old, well established building with red spider-weave-cotton curtains over the windows and a half faded sign posted above a squeaking heavy wooden door proclaiming the dull image of a pair of feet on a table beside a mug of some sort of ale opened its premise to the handsome Drow before it.

Shar, of little spoken family, sauntered into the taproom of the quiet bar with the air of a Drow in need of a stiff, not so poisoned drink. Over his sculptured chest he wore a light tunic, well worn from use, but still suitably tucked into a pair of leather pants; whether consciously or not, the tunic was open partially over his dark chest, exposing the edges of tattoos running down his chest.

The bar had a few other occupants; a rich merchant and a few traders doing Lloth-only-knew in one booth out of sight, a rich, very drunk looking gentleman eying off the slave serving drinks, a harpist stringing her instrument in a corner, drawing a few heads of attention with her songs from many of the other Drow cities.

As he sat at the bar and tossed down a few coins, Shar nodded to a few other regulars that gave him the same courtesy, requesting a large mug of the day's pick. His coins were snatched almost as quickly as they appeared, and he next moment his drink manifested. There was a reason they called this barkeep QuickFingers Jeli.

"How go the twins, Shar?" One of the regulars whom he was on talking basis with inquired above the din of noise.

"I'd kill them myself," the weaponsmaster muttered irritably, taking a sip of his- firewind ale, it seemed- before speaking more clearly, "The youngest almost dispatched his brother today, if the lady Matron hadn't been there... I might have let him." he finished with another mutter.

But the matron wouldn't have taken so lightly to him doing that, he knew. The questioner chuckled at what he hadn't heard but could clearly guess and started to go into his own story of the day. Bald patches on his consort's head. No doubt she'd hear him talking in such a loud voice all the way from their house and flog him for the impertinence.

Shar's attention, caught relatively easily from the mundane chatter he'd engaged the young harpist in the corner while she had a break, shifted to a new face appearing in the tavern, a handsome young creature that had entered. His attention diverted seemed to irritate the harpist and she frowned at him, stopping the recount of how she had tortured a cloaker to learn her newest songs, Shar paid her little mind and gave a vague wave as he drifted over to the new face.
"I haven't seen a new face in here before." He spoke, pulling out the chair opposite Rhyllyn and sitting. "Well not one with such rare eyes." He took a sip of his firewine as he spoke, lavender orbs staring at Rhyllyn's strange, yellow eyes. His gaze was cautious, not overly friendly, but also not hostile.

Shar chuckled darkly at the assassin's reply. It was cute. He took another sip of his firewine and signaled to slave serving drinks to fetch him another one.
"I could, but seeing you all alone over here makes me feel alone myself, and you have such a nice voice as well- tell me, what house are you from?"
The weaponsmaster's lithe form shifting into a relatively relaxed position in his chair as he studied the other man. While his tone and posture were inoffensive, and he wasn't talking very loudly, he suspected perhaps he was up against a challenge in breaking the ice here.
Shar's lips curled into a smile. He liked the initial challenge of so many things.

Shar's eyebrows shot up at the assassin's cold remarks- the ice that this man kept on his outside reminded him of the same ice that Shar used on his inside. It was the same emotion, just applied in different places, both with the result of keeping the world at arms length. Shar's ears shifted with something akin to anger, although his face didn't show it. He was still the serene, friendly creature.
"Oh, but I had heard such good things of your house- are you always this rude?" His conversation redirected itself before the sentence had even finished, and although Shar may have looked like he was speaking brashly, his words were indeed calculated. He accepted a fresh drink from the serving slave and slid one of two mugs in Rhyllyn's direction. "I imagine you have a lot of trouble making allies when you get flustered just holding a conversation at a tavern." His tone was teasing, most definately. Although when he glanced into Rhyllyn's face a hint of his true emotion showed through in the depths of his eyes, a hint of understanding. He was beginning to think this strange eyed Drow was going to be biting off more than Shar could chew. Still, you didn't come to a bar to be completely alone- you stayed at home for that, so he suspected this one was either (not so much 'playing') hard to get, or here for other things.

Shar would have said something, undoubtedly witty and insightful, but it was in the moment that that someone decided to take offense to something another Drow had said and upturned the table next to Shar and Rhyllyn, slamming their chair back and sloshing both his and Rhyllyn's drinks.
Shar frowned as he stood up, about to demand an apology of the clumsy Drow when he noticed that the man was about to be stabbed by his companion.
"What I wouldn't give to allow this..." He growled, pushing the victim out of the way and expertly twisting the offender's arm to one side. He moved with a rapid pace, like water rushing over a river, precise and dangerous. "You know the law! Take your daggers elsewhere!" He hissed, lavender eyes burning with anger.