Isabelle sort of loved scoping out bars and clubs. They were always the most fun, even if they didn't actually result in taking out various demonic forces; at the very least, she got to get out for the night, dress up a little, have some fun. She'd been watching the man at the bar for a while now, mostly out of curiosity. She and her brothers caught wind of some kind of weirdness going on, and she was the one to check it out. Naturally. She was the prettiest.

She was decked out in a slinky dress - black, naturally - that clung to her in all the right places, her hair curled slightly and pinned to one side, tumbling over her shoulder. Her Marks were glamoured away, her weapons all hidden from view, the ruby around her throat not even thrumming slightly. Good to know, at least.

She drained the rest of her glass of water, then crossed over to the bar, heels clicking on the floor. Kilgrave was shot a coy little smile, as she slid into the seat next to him, and then the bartender got her attention: "Vodka cranberry, thanks."