Late in the evening (insofar as time was really paid any mind in the bar), there was a clatter of bottles on a rack from the kitchen behind the bar, followed by a few mumbled curses. The source of the noise emerged from the door a minute later- a tall, scraggly, and suddenly very excited young man. The artful mismatch of his clothes easily pegged him as a college student on laundry day, although the suitcoat he had on was nice enough. More noticible was the rather large pin on his lapel proudly proclaiming 'Kiss me- I'm Legal'.
Grinning like an idiot, Mark ambled out to the bar itself, running a hand along the wood top- and getting a shot for his effort.
"Best. Birthday. Ever." He declared with a mocking sort of reverence, before shooting the tequila. He didn't bother with doors, or family. They would come up eventually. For now, he was more interested on working his way to the customer side of the bar, to keep his party going.
[OOC: Keeping with my theme of sheltering pups from long-dead games, this here is Mark House; yes, son of Greg House, but not of either of the ones in the bar. This goes all the way back to a time before, in a place called Otherways: the AU Bar at the End of the Universe. The cliffnotes: Mark House, son of Stacy and Greg House, who divorced when he was six. Mom earned full custody at 11, remarried to a non-approved stepfather, who kept Mark from seeing Greg except for holidays and emergencies. He's grown up to be a pretty typical college kid, at MIT for computer programming/AI. Smart, pretentious, and more like his father than anyone really should be.]