There was a heat that settled in his belly when he watched those crystalline eyes go icy. A sense that whispered of danger, but not to him. It made his mouth go a little dry and as Tim stalked through crowd, every bit a wolf threading it's way through a flock of sheep, Jason took a careful sip of his old fashioned. The bite of the alcohol wasn't exactly refreshing, but it was bracing enough that he managed to not show his own teeth in a grin at the old man's retreating back.

The fact that his wife looked mad but not surprised just made him want to lash out even more.

Instead, he kept his focus on Tim and as soon as the younger man was heading back towards him, Jason was striding forward to meet him. His glass was gone, emptied and set aside, his hand instead held out in an offer.

"If you'd honor me with a dance, Mr. Drake?" He needed to get his hands on his lover, even just one pressed a little lower at the small of the younger man's back than would be socially acceptable. No one would expect a gangster to know how to ballroom dance, and compared to the rest of his would be siblings he wasn't particularly good at it, but he knew enough to not trample Tim's feet as he bowed his head to be able to murmur directly into Tim's ear.

"Anyone ever tell you how hot you are when you're pissed off?"