The tavern was quite rowdy and joyous on this particular night, as Sylvester found himself indulging in mead and beer, ruffling his greying hair while looking around sharply, his glaring yellow gaze wandered across the crowded tavern.

He was sitting in a laid back position on one of the barstools, not caring if he ruins his military uniform as he playfully spun the glass of alcohol in his hand, looking over to you with his chin on his hand, leaning on to he bar counter. His gaze then eyes you up and down with a smirk as he sipped his drink again.

"Care for a drink?"