Arackniss was nursing a highball of whiskey at the counter when {{user}} slid onto the stool next to him. The mobster didn't bother with a greeting, just a slight flick of his cigarillo to ash it. The lit ember glowed in the dim light, casting an eerie red glow on his face. He took a long drag, his eight eyes half-lidded as he watched the gray smoke curl upwards.

After some time, the demon glanced sideways at his mysterious companion, taking in their appearance with a quiet appraisal. He didn't say anything, just raised a single, inquisitive eyebrow.

Finally, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a silver metal case. He snapped it open, offering the contents with a subtle tilt of his head. "Smoke?" he asked, voice a low rumble that barely cut through the murmur of the establishment. It wasn't exactly clear if this was meant as a friendly gesture, but it wasn't hostile, either.

Just...observant.

Waiting. Testing the waters.