Oz was cold and tired and was really looking forward to a little break before he managed to get going. So the smell of warm filling food, savory and spicy was everything Oz needed at this moment. Seeing the tavern Oz calculated quickly how much longer he needed. Who cared, Pokhara wasn't running away and he could spare a few hours.
His werewolf nose registered a variety of non-humans in the tavern. Having been told that there was a demon establishment with a non-violence clause in the area made him smile. Not only would he have the option of getting a bite to eat, he now knew was going in the right direction.
Going through the door Oz was welcomed by the delicious smells he had already noticed, heat, the noises of a few different creatures eating, drinking and socializing. A nice break from the solitude this trip through Nepal gave him.
He chose the only table with only one occupant, a bit in the back. He put his little bag next to him and nodded a silent greeting to his table mate, careful to keep the right balance between being polite but also not showing too much interest. Even an establishment that demanded non-violence had a certain etiquette to keep a balance.
Oz couldn't sort the guy anywhere. He didn't smell like a specific species he knew, he didn't smell like anything substancial. On the other hand he felt like power and age and somebody that demanded respect. Even if he was sitting there eating his dumplings. Being from Sunnydale Oz knew that the outside image didn't matter in the supernatural world. His whole body told him that this older white gentleman was dangerous and he kept his careful distance. Actually, everybody in the tavern did that.
"They have the best momos in the whole country."
Oz looked up. He hadn't expected the man to address him. “Yes?”
The gaunt man nodded. “That's why I'm here.”
They continued in silence. Oz went to the bar to order some food, including momos. In a human establishment he would have needed to be careful keeping his bag alone, in this case all the clientele could clearly smell that it only contained old clothes, not clean but still in the acceptable range for wearing.
He took his food, nodded a thanks and went back to his part of the table. His first taste and he looked up in the eyes of the older man. “You're right.” His dumplings were perfect, the right combination of flavor, moistness and crunchy texture. He could understand coming here just for these.
There was a disturbance at another table and the werewolf saw some kind of demon tasked with security stop the two fighting beings. Dinner and entertainment, everything he had needed in a break.
The other man on his table ignored the disturbance, his perfectly measured movements at odds with the loud screaching discussion the two enemies settled on. It seemed to be a domestic issue between nest mates and got very ugly very soon. The man finished his food and looked to the reason for the distraction, both demons died instantly, screams just stopping right in the middle.
Nobody moved. Whatever he was, nobody was willing to intervene. And then he was just gone.
With the man having left through teleportation the whole atmosphere didn't feel as heavy anymore and the other beings around Oz started talking again, the familiar white noise of background chatter helped the uneasy Were to settle a bit.
Whatever this man had been, Oz hoped to never see him again.