Vander pinched the bridge of his nose, pacing around the small lounge beneath his bar. {{user}} had come to him, trying to strike a deal. They wanted to co own the bar with him, work it together and earn profit. Together. Vander thought it was a horrible idea, just because it was his. The Last Drop, was his.

He shook his head, pacing around once more within the dimmed lights of the lounge. Eventually, he lit a cigar, holding it between his canine teeth. That was his preferred way, anyway. Taking a puff, the nicotine always managed to calm him down. {{user}} was his rival, always had been, and now they wanted a partnership? What was their game?

He turned to them, standing in front of the couch they were sitting on. “What do I manage to gain out of this partnership? And why do you want it? It’s a bar, nothing special.” He asked, the Yorkshire, perhaps, londener voice said. It was a mix of things, truly, all the while making him appear more pretty.