To Flow From

Nick cracked his fingers and settled at the bar with a smug look. He looked at the person next to him, "Good day?"

Nicholas was working at the club, on the second floor. The goal was so he wouldn't fall asleep while he was typing up his order lists on his laptop at the table in the corner, surrounded by catalogs.

That goal was obviously a failure as he snapped awake, head popping up as he babbled in a mix of German and Hungarian, looking around wild eyed.

Anael was staring at the water.

He was crouched on a rock on the edge of the baths, wearing nothing but jeans, wings visible in his back. They were sheltering him from the outside world, drawn up slightly and curved on either side of his body. His outstretched hand almost touched the hot water, creating tiny waves by sending warm tendrils of wind on the surface.

He was deep in thought, in his own world. Clearly someone had to come and disturb him.

He was sitting at the middle level of En Mare. He eyed another person at the bar with a faintly speculative air. "What are you?" he asked, candidly.

Sundays weren't any different at the Emanare than any other day. It was crowded with a multitude of beings, corners and nooks isolated for peace. Any beverage was served at the bar on each level by one of the Morgan women.

It was simple, it was relaxing, it was neutral. That was the charm.