"Suppose so," Seth repeated in agreement, placing the wad of money on the counter, enough for the both of them. The bartender returned from the cellar, brushing cobwebs from his hair with one hand while the other cradled two skinny, black bottles with no labels. They were the bar's own special blended brew, and Seth had taken a liking to them.
Tomorrow, he had to be up bright and early for a photoshoot for some high end magazine. Seth did not understand why they have to do it in the morning if he was such an important part of the magazine; he hated getting up early. Outside, a flash of bright light signaled Zeiger's arrival, Seth had made a point not to apparate under the influence, having had first hand experience with the consequences.
"You want a lift?" Seth took the bottles from the bartender, "Looks nasty outside."