#* sinan

Even with a few drinks in his belly, Tate had never really been the type to relax. Always on alert, whether that be through observation or his sense of hearing - everything going on around him was always worth noting. Fortunately for him, it made him a little less approachable than he’d ever wanted to be and the empty spaces beside him weren’t exactly something he worried over. Familiarity in his sense however, held a tightening knot in the back of his neck that ticked over at the approach of another, the witch in question, a bitter taste on his tongue. “You pull that hoodoo shit on me again and I promise you I have no issue putting a few slugs in your skull in return, even with the audience.”