Swifttail watched as Izakis stepped off toward the bar, and with a moment of hesitation, he pulled out a chair and took a seat. His eyes flicked toward the wolf, then away again uneasily, but doing his best not to let it show. The sheer presence of the canid beast at the same table had his shoulders a little tighter than usual.
Still, Morgan was there. He glanced her way and offered a small, lopsided smile. It was quiet and supportive.
When Izakis returned with the drinks, his ears twitched at the sight of the bottle she carried. A whole bottle. Gates, he thought, trying not to gape. That didn’t look cheap.
Still, she seemed sincere in the gesture, not showing any intent to split the tab. He accepted the glass she poured and gave a small, thankful nod, the rim hovering near his nose for a moment.
Swifttail took a cautious sip.
The whiskey burned the tip of his tongue and rolled down like fire, making him wince just slightly before schooling his expression. He’d never been much of a drinker. He usually avoided it when he could.
Still… it was market day. He was among good beasts, or at least, beasts trying to be good. And sometimes, he figured, that was enough to raise a glass. Even if it tasted like biting a forge.
He swallowed once and rested the glass on the table, careful not to look as nervous as he felt.