Who | Adrian, Marcus & Clint When | Sunday Night Where | Bletchley's What | A Night Out. Rating | Language, likely. Status | Log.
To be honest, he was quite content with the idea of a night out with the boys. It was the first time in a long while since their schedules had been clear enough to manage it. If it wasn't Quidditch, it was the bloody women getting in the way. Don't get him wrong. He appreciated the distractions they provided, but sometimes he just wanted to ditch them and hang out with a less complicated notion ... not that sex was really all that complicated. Not even Marcus Flint could bloody well have sex all the damn time. He supposed they spent a fair amount of time eating and lounging about ... but really? Sometimes a bloke just needed to be surrounded by other blokes.
The first to arrive at Bletchley's, Marcus moved to their usual booth and kicked back. Ordering a whiskey from a particularly perky redhead, he grinned as he watched her walk away. Yes. Bletchley's would be a perfect venue for Clint's bachelor party. That thought had him rolling his eyes. It wasn't that he didn't think he and Lexi were good for each other. Things always ran smoother when they were together. He just didn't think a shotgun wedding was the way to go about it. A complete waste of his prime years. Sometimes he still had a hard time thinking about having sex with the same person forever. Marriage just seemed to cement that torture. Bad things happened when you married. You started going grey, gaining weight, your sex life decreased, you stopped going out, you stopped drinking. Christ. He had no bloody idea why anyone did it.
Hearing a familiar name being called in greeting, Marcus glanced up from his whiskey to spot Adrian moving over to the table. All outward signs made it appear that he was perfectly fine. Only those who knew him could tell that there was a bit of tension lingering around his shoulders. "Trouble in paradise?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as the blond sank down into the spot beside him.
Adrian was bloody tired, but somewhat relieved to be out of the house and away from the tension that had developed between Emma and himself. He didn't know how to fix it. He had some ideas, but each of them had the potential to be just as bad for them as they could be good. "Not so much trouble as completely arse-backwards," he muttered, ordering his own glass of whiskey. He knew exactly what was expected of him and "arse-backwards" was the best thing to sum it all up.
When Marcus went to question him on that, Adrian waved it off. He didn't really want to talk about it just then. They were going to find themselves under the spotlight soon enough without having to face it right then. Give him a few more glasses and he might be more willing to touch that topic. "Where's Clint?"
Marcus shrugged, "Practicing with the ball and chain?"