That manages to be unexpected, enough that after a second, Deacon smiles wide, a dry, smokey sounding chuckle at the back of his throat. "Glad to have made the right impression," he says, with a glance back over his shoulder at the thinner crowd of vampiric life and their food, cut into silhouettes in the hard intermittent light of the bar.

He refocuses on his current companions, releasing another sigh of smoke. It's to Ilde, he asks; "What's in it for you?"