Achilles did have a way of turning heads whenever he entered a room — though not always that reason was flattering nor good. Golden waves of hair cascaded past his chest and down along the turquoise tunic he wore. Azure eyes were well aware of the eyes upon him, but at a young age he had learned to thrive on the attention, or to ignore it. There were few in his company, that lingered at his side, especially when he sat along the bar.
Once the drink was placed before him, and the bartender pointed out who had purchased it for him, that keen gaze flickered toward the man, “What reason have you purchased this for me?”
♞—⊱Leo smiled. “It matters not. Enjoy y'self.” Of course such amiable reasons were entirely false and to simply anticipate nothing in return would be the actions of the Leonard of the past. The unrelenting, chivalrous pushover assisting anyone who needed any help in the name of honor. How undeniably bland.
The tactic was to feed off curiosity. He need not be hasty. If the man was in the least bit confused that a complete stranger in a random town would offer him a drink, well–there were other means of garnering what he wanted.
