Axel sat at the bar, already on his second drink--a margarita on the rocks. Perhaps not everyone's first choice for him, but he accepted most all types of alcohol as gold and preferred to start the night with something a bit flavorful. Later he could switch to harder drinks meant to pull him under. After all, this was his secret to successfully drinking the night away. Marathon, not sprint.

As Silvestre approached, Axel gazed toward the dance floor with his chin propped up on a palm, not noticing at first. His expression was a far cry from his usual cocky grin, though confidence still radiated from every part of his body. Only when the other man spoke and something flashed in the dim thrumming lights of the club did he start. The quiet look on his face instantly fell away to be replaced by a hiss of distaste. "Did you take a picture of me?" he snapped. Damn himself for getting relaxed. He couldn't turn weak toward Silvestre just because he cooled his head a little.

Tossing his hair out of his eyes, Axel motioned to the stool next to him. "How about you tell them nothing will change whether or not you do." He sighed though, doing nothing to push Silvestre away. He didn't want to hate the other man. He wanted drink with him and laugh and smile, but it had been too long since he did any of those things for real. "Though I suppose that would be point less too. Just don't take pictures of me! Delete it, you ass!" he added with a sharp glare.

After downing the rest of his drink in one go, he lifted a hand to call the bartender's attention, both for himself and Silvestre. Finally, his signature smirk settled onto his face. "But if you think you'll out-drink me, then you're severely wrong!"