Baz maneuvered his way down a brightly lit street littered with bars and clubs on either side. His most recent job had taken a bit longer than he expected and now he was running late. He glanced down at his watch, sidestepping a young couple already blitzed–their auras strangely dulled by whatever drug they were on–as he did so.
Okay, so he wasn't that late, but the male witch was not one for such impolite behavior. Sighing, Baz ran a hand through his messy hair wondering, yet again, how the hell he had gotten himself into this situation. Dating had been off his radar for so long that he figured he was just going to spend his incredibly long life in the company of nothing but his books, clients, and coven mates. Yet here Baz was, late for a….date.
Arriving at the appropriate door, he stepped in without hesitation, arching a brow at the casually elegant set up of the wide room. Of all the bars on the street, the Black Thorn was obviously the fanciest one. Baz's blue blood appreciated it, he'd suffered long enough in the dirt of mortal bars.
Not knowing what his date looked like was a problem though and realizing that he should have asked his friend for more details instead of blindly accepting, Baz frowned slightly. With another sigh, the man stepped over to the long bar and sat a few chairs away from another patron. When the youthful barmaid stepped up for his order, Baz requested a gin and tonic with a smile.