It could've been midnight or noon and he wouldn't have known. Traveling by traditional method tended to fuck with his sense of time, and he wasn't wearing a watch to help him along. He owned one - nineteen at last count, some of which he'd actually paid for - but they felt like having a cuff 'round his wrist, and that was something he enjoyed only occasionally. As he hadn't moved for several hours - and had no intention of doing so any time soon - time had ceased to be important; he was where he needed to be, or very nearly, and when he was ready he would return to the hotel to face his punishment, as it were.
The vibration on the bar told him his phone was humming again, and sure enough, it was little brother. The calls had been increasing in frequency for the last week, shifting in tone from cajoling to scolding to worry to frustration to Get your ass back here before I have every single one of your suits taken in three inches. The last one was what had done it; he'd left the flat in Paris and returned to Vegas, though he'd done it in his own way, catching flights and trains and hitching rides here and there, all of which would slow his arrival just enough to remind Dionysus that he was the elder of the two.
He was home now, or rather, in the vicinity of home, as he'd stopped into The Well for a drink or six to anesthetize himself for what was sure to be one of his brother's famous tongue lashings. And not the pleasant sort of lashing, either. The Society was in town, and moreover, it was in house, and no one had sussed out what they were doing there yet. Nosing 'round, was his own personal opinion, but then he had inside information, didn't he? They couldn't claim responsibility for what they hadn't done, and Hermes had spent a great deal of time breathing in the dust of what they hadn't done, so he was well aware of just exactly whom had done what. Perhaps they were looking to join forces with whomever had been powerful enough to bring down the throne, and wouldn't that be a kick in the ass, if after centuries of fighting they joined forces to rid the world of evil.
"Just call me Capulet," he mumbled into his glass, and then clearing his throat when someone sat down next to him. Looking over at the arrival, he lifted the glass and drained its contents, catching the raspberry between his teeth and swallowing it whole before speaking.
"If you want to talk, we're going to need a significantly larger amount of alcoholic beverages."