Mid-shift, his knee bumped the glove compartment and the damn thing popped open. A bottle of holy water that had been cramed into the full compartment hit his foot and he shoved it back where it belonged, shutting the compartment. That put an end to the shifting. "I don't like most clubs. Too noisy and too crowded. The Lux isn't bad." He shrugged and glanced out the window. "It's owned by Sam Anders and Mirta Gev. You could ask them."
One thing he was still getting used to was the number of people willing to help. Before the team, that usually involved a large sum of money and even then, trust was in short supply. On the team, they had been the ones helping people. "I'll keep that in mind." He drummed his fingers idly on his knee.
Just about the time he started to ask 'are we there yet?', the place came into sight. As soon as the car was in park, the door was open and Eliot was out. "You really think so? That'd just make my night." With a grin, he shut the door and headed for the door. It was one of those places that the glitter and glamour of Los Angeles hadn't left its mark on. He held the door open for Buffy and then headed in, catching the scent of the usual staples that ran standard for that kind of place.
Heading up to the counter, he flashed the woman behind it a smile. "We've got two players." As she turned to the equipment, he picked up one of the small score cards and a short pencil. Scrawling E. on the first line, he slid it over to Buffy.