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Tristan T. Travers ([info]alliterative) wrote in [info]finnigans_rpg,
Since he'd made the decision to show up at the open interview, Tristan thought it might be a good idea if he actually bothered to check out Wingbeat before the interview itself. Even if he didn't get a job there, at least he could say he'd done his research. Even if that research mostly involved silently staring at the crowd (which he supposed wasn't bad for a Sunday but would be larger the other nights the club were open) and realising he'd never been to a club before. But he was a quick study in most instances, and, generally speaking, there wasn't too much to the club so far as what it was all about. People danced. People drank. People flirted. People even wandered off to darker parts of the club or out the door in groups of two (and one group of three. Huh).

Taking a breath, holding it, and then letting it out slowly, Tristan let the music flow over him, through him, closing his eyes briefly. There was no silence here, not like last night, a while the unfamiliar people set his nerves alight, it also made him far more aware of everything. When he opened his eyes, he even let himself briefly make eye contact with a pretty girl, gently extending his mind out toward hers, smiling at the images of him at the surface of her mind. It was enough to give him confidence about being there, and he turned away, deciding that, just to ease the rest of his nerves, he might need a small glass of some kind of alcoholic beverage.

Tristan wove through the crowd, careful not to bump into anyone (which he assumed was also an easier feat given that it was a Sunday and not a Friday or Saturday, and stopped when he got to the bar, sliding onto a stool. He told the bar tender to make him something fancy that hid the alcohol in it, then carefully watched the drink being made, taking notes on the process. He gave the bar tender a smile as he took the drink and paid for it.

"Cheers," he said to the bloke next to him, raising his glass in a toast and smiling before taking a sip. Fruity and sweet and just what he needed. He suspected, given from what he saw, that it had more alcohol in it than he might be able to handle, so he decided not drink it too quickly or order another.


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