Salem, at first, doesn't notice the knife flying through the air-- once he turns back to Rathien, his eyes follow Rathien's up on instinct. He reacts somewhat clumsily, slapping it aside with the butt of his Shredder so that it clatters to the floor nearby. He can feel his ears reddening, though he supposes, bitterly, that he should be proud of the speed of his Shredder draw there.
He does, however, catch enough of what Rathien says to bark out a sound that's halfway between a chuckle and a... purr, almost, and he runs his eyes sensually along what he can see of Rathien's shoulder. "Mmm. Just where to sink them." At the mention of Thienal, the noise turns to almost a snarl. "One can only hope," he mutters darkly. "That little weasel."
He pushes himself to his feet, smirking, his ears burning even more as he realizes how effectively Rathien has just played his emotions. Nobody's ever been able to push his buttons quite like Rathien has. It's a lot of the Ildari's appeal.
He sighs. How, after a near-stabbing, is it still this hard to peel himself away from Rathien? "Excuse me for a bit, guys," he says, and strides purposefully towards Al.
"Oh!" says Al brightly, grinning. "I'm an artificial construct. A being built by others. A collection of moving parts kept alive by the Pemalite equivalent of electricity and clockwork." His tone is casual, as if he were merely discussing the weather. "What you see isn't the real me. There's not an organic bone in this body. I can project light and force so that I look and feel like a person, but my real body is underneath this."
He holds out his arm for William to see and dims the hologram until it becomes transparent. Underneath, his robotic arm is clearly visible-- the combination of metal and white plastic, the strange, alien, almost doglike shape.
"Hey," says Salem, walking up to him.
"Hey!" Al says happily, grabbing Salem's arm and pulling him close. "Let me introduce you to my friends. This is..."
"Al, later," Salem says tolerantly. He glances at Jeffrey and William as he tries, unsuccessfully, to escape Al's embrace. "Did you see where Myitt went?"
"Outside," Al replies. "Looked a little green."
"Thanks," says Salem, pushing Al away and stepping towards the door.
"Salem," says Al, grabbing Salem's arm and speaking in an exaggeratedly friendly voice, "If you take advantage of her drunkenness to turn her towards the forces of darkness I will plant my robot boot so far up your ass you'll be sneezing metal shavings for a month." When Salem frowns at him quizzically, Al smiles sweetly and flutters his eyelashes.
As Salem stomps towards the door, at a loss for words, Al turns back to William and Jeffrey. "Sorry, don't mind him. He's had a rough week. He's normally much friendlier." He catches sight of his arm and laughs. "Oops!" he says, shaking his wrist and turning the arm back to full opacity.
"Barkeep!" he says, catching the bartender's eye, "Chocolate milk for the redhead there." He tries to catch her eye and gesture towards a nearby stool.