Sam had a night off, and having remembered the conversation with Keiran as well as the fact that he apparently worked with yet another journal holder... well... it drew him like a moth to a flame. So, remembering the name of the bar, Sam dressed in normal clothing (as opposed to the club gear he usually wore out of an evening).
When he stepped out of the cab, he brushed a few strands of hair out of his eyes, leaning into the cab window to pay the driver. As the cab pulled away, he turned and went into the bar. He paid the cover, liking that he seemed to blend in here. It didn't happen very often, and right now it felt good.
He stood for a moment letting his eyes adjust to the dim light, looking around for his friend. Well, maybe not friend. He wasn't really sure what to call a man he'd spoken with for all of ten minutes and yet felt like he'd known forever.
He finally spotted him in a booth with another man. A man who gave him the same shivery feeling of knowing. Ordering a shot of vodka from the bar, he went over to the booth where the men were sitting and stood for just a moment out of ear shot.
"Well, well. Is all the help here so attractive?" he teased lightly.