[Asra puts on his little show, but it's there in him already, the steely-glint in his dream-coloured eyes and Julian is already frowning before the pronouncement is even made, ignores the litter shivershudder in some quiet part of him that whispers traitorously of how he likes that look, how he'd like it to be turned his way more often. Instead he clicks his tongue, mutters a mild curse under his breath and reaches to pluck his shot from the bar with only marginal reluctance.]

I should have known, you put that one in there to throw me off. You knew I wouldn't believe it.

[And it comes with that snippet of information, something he hadn't known before, some small part of Asra's past that he'd never thought to ask after. He folds it away inside of himself now though, won't forget it.]

I knew I should have said the hair.

[Though there's no point lamenting it now, is there? A little theatrical sigh, and then he's knocking back his shot with one quick and practiced movement, winces only slightly at the strength of the liquor as he swallows it down, feels it warming him from the inside out.]

So does that make it my turn? Or do you go again, because I uh, messed up a bit.