Art was proud of himself, the night was going well, and he’d got to open it in panther form, announcing the doors opening with a roar through the speakers, just like he might have done at Wax. He’d even managed to resist Rarity trying to put him in a little panther bow tie.
Now, back in human form as politeness demanded, he floated around, dressed all in black and with a box of chocolates tucked under his arm, making him the milk tray man for the evening.
He was relaxed, there was no law here, so he didn’t worry about underage drinker unless it was ridiculous, plus he was Irish, eighteen was legal to him. He just kept an eye out for anyone who’d gone too far.