Danny was on the lookout on Saturday night for a girl who looked like she could be named Clara. That was the trouble with using the network to communicate with people: one never knew for sure who (or what) someone was. She was a bartender at the Long Way Down, which he'd been to before, and he was wracking his brain to try and think of the female bartenders he'd seen that night. She could've been off, too.
Boudin was predictably busy that night and he was filling orders and sending them out, either to the customers propped at the bar, or to the waitstaff who were carrying them to the tables. He fell into a comfortable rhythm of it and had learned the crowd favorite drinks and how to make them fast. With the liquor flowing and the hour getting later, the place got louder and it was was a nice din of noise that Danny enjoyed.
His dragon senses were dampened while in his human form, but he could still easily sense who was fae, what was a were, who was probably a vampire, all by the way their energies played off of his own sensitive aura or by how they smelled - weres especially were easy to pinpoint. He should've asked Clara what she was, he thought. That'd help narrow down this collage of supernatural vibes.
Danny had his hair tied back from his face and his sleeves rolled up as he worked. He wore mostly black, which just happened to be some of his nicer clothes, and to keep it out of the drink prep station, he'd tucked his tie into the second two buttons of his button-up shirt. Ahh, buttons. So classy. So smooth and delightful.