It hadn't been long since Dionysus had been back in New York, but it was like putting on the glass slipper. There took little for him to bounce right back into the game and feel at home. It was almost as if the god were still young, because that energy hardly ever grew tired.
At the raise of a hand, the bartender slid down the bar, his head tilting at the man in the baseball cap. "What can I do for you, handsome?" he asked smoothly, not quite able to see the man's eyes for the rim of the cap. "Why don't you take off that hat so I can see your eyes," he said, not one to be denied.
Mortals they could try, and they often knew little in what to do in Dionysus' presence. At the tap of the other's fingers, there was a strong pull that washed over him, much like a magnet to it's opposite, and he knew before he tilted his head down to peek under the hat who was now sitting in front of him. "Fancy seeing you here, brother," he claimed with a smile, resting his elbow on the counter and putting his chin in hand.