If taking the slightest offense at Morgan's reluctance to drink his toast, he obviously wasn't too inclined to show it. Granted, it violated customs and general courtesy; and basically, it wasn't as much about finishing the drink as it was accepting the offer. Call it a symbolic gesture of peace, if you will; a generous offer that shouldn't be ignored, or at least not under the circumstances. Charles himself, however, had never been one to put much weight on tradition; redundant and pointless as it was to indulge in the habitual rituals of a generally stagnated aristocracy. Not to say that he was ignorant of the aspects of the aforementioned praxis, as presumably was the case with Alannah. Charles was an educated man, however, or at least in that sense; never mind that he had long since discarded such unspoken codes of conduct as the limitations of his father's outdated generation. Remnants of the past, if you will. As it was, he only adopted such courtesy when expected to; such as at formal events, as befitting his position, given that keeping up appearances was another profound and seemingly pointless concept of nobility that was anything but lost on his excellence. Under the circumstances, however, he was beyond caring for the guidelines of such courtesy; though whether or not it was because of the distinguishing lack of class of the establishment or its questionable service was throughout debatable.

If nothing else there was always the matter of the fire-whiskey; for, in retrospect, one needed but catch a glimpse of how they served the poison to their customers in order to determine that their style was considerably lacking. Not that it mattered, as seemingly the establishment held quite an attraction for what was basically the local scum of humanity - Though supposedly that sort of people did not particularly care for the details as long as they got their hands on their daily consumption of alcohol. Suffice it to say that it was easy to determine why the Hog's Head had earned its reputation. Not that he was one to complain about the shady clientele, really, as the said infamy of the place obviously could serve a redeeming purpose. That was, however, entirely beside the point; As was any speculations concerning the variety of dubious business that could possibly require an equally dubious setting. What mattered at all, if to return to the matter as hand, was that he failed to attach any relevant significance to whether or not Alannah accepted his drink. Her rudeness was the least of his problems, in any care; and given that conclusion, nor was the offer in itself of any particular significance.

The choice not take it or not was her's, and consequentially it was also her loss.

I was merely getting a drink, Montague,

His lips twitched into a meagre smirk at the statement, somewhat humored as he was with the mildly contradicting nature of the insufficient explanation. Suffice it to say that he found it awfully lacking, mind you, suitably convinced as he already was of that Morgan's visit to the Hog's Head was of a whole-nother character. For though other possible explanations had struck him since he first laid eyes on her, Alannah Morgan was definitively not the sort of character that one was likely to encounter at a similar place. In a sense she felt as out of place as a muggle would at Hogwarts, that possibly spawning from the dwindling sense of confidence that hinted a lack of prior experience. No big surprise. She was not a rebel, whether with our without cause, and nor was she too likely to have an appreciation for the general atmosphere of the establishment. Of course, even the least remarkable elements of humanity had their respective darker appetites, but somehow he could not envision Alannah Morgan indulging in the practice of slumming on a general basis. At any rate it certainly didn't become her; not to mention that, ultimately, she was radiating a far too proper and well-adjusted disposition to fall in with the sort of crowds that frequented similar joints.

"Really? And I suppose you mean to tell me that you come here often?," He jeered in return, frankly not caring to hide the scornful and ironic chuckle that followed. For a second he mirrored her gaze, either brow cocked in ill-concealed sceptiscism; though eventually his oculars flicked over toward the untouched drinks, a subtle frown visible on his features. Granted, he had no idea of Morgan's alcohol tolerance, but if she was as new to the prospect of consuming alcohol as he originally presumed.. Though perhaps he underestimated her. Or at least he doubted he would achieve imminent success in that sort of endeavor, though admittedly it was also one of the few doable alternatives by which he could possibly get rid of her temporarily. If at all.

"If you are truly here to drink, however, allow me to buy you one. I insist," He continued, a mild persistence to his voice as he adopted a relatively harsh version of the gentleman routine. As already established, he genuinely doubted that he would get anywhere with that approach; but in a sense, had she but an ounce of decency, she wouldn't refuse him. Besides he had no choice but give it a shot. Naturally he couldn't tolerate her presence forever, which was considerably frustrating as nor did he have the right to simply throw her out of the bar at his own convenience. Other than on account of his head boy-ship, as the area was off-limits to students, though since his own factual presence in the vicinity was equally unwarranted he had basically succeeded in neutralizing his authority. That aside there was but the option of pulling the underage card, but somehow he doubted that the employees of the Hogsmeade hell hole was particularly likely to give a damn about the age of their customers. After all, that Morgan was permitted to purchase drinks made that relatively obvious.

It was a pity, indeed, but the downsides of choosing the less desirable quarters of the town was suddenly all to apparent.

Your wariness speaks volumes of why you might be here, though.

"Does it, now?," He in return, his tone deliberately subdued as he carefully evaluated the situation. He doubted she had as much as a clue of what she was talking about, though part of him nurtured an inevitable curiosity in the matter. If anything, he was particularly interested in finding out what Morgan thought she knew. Perhaps she was even aware of as much as a fraction of the truth, however unlikely it seemed. Eliminating that somewhat unpleasant train of thought, however, he rather put Morgan in focus by granting her the only responce she could possibly have expected. "Last I checked, Morgan, my business are none of your concern. Though since you presume to know so much, why don't you tell me?,"