"So there are," Jedao agrees, and there is a distant, terrible gentleness in his voice. He absolutely does mean to take Sinjir, to steal him from the endless Greentide undertow he's slowly drowning in and make him one of Jedao's people instead.

He catches the bartender's attention with - frankly - an annoyingly effortless gesture. He doesn't need glamour to captivate people. "Another for him, whiskey sour for me," he orders. "Two cherries, no sugar."

And then his eyes come back to Sinjir, gazing quietly at him. It's not an infatuated gaze, or even particularly lustful, but piercing and content at the same time, as though it pleases him simply to look at Sinjir, and to see him.