After receiving a 'go' from Heath, Orsino had made a quick round of his flat, ransacking kitchen cabinets gracelessly and throwing whatever alcohol had been lying around for the past few months into an old knapsack. The Prophet article earlier had angered him first, then worried him - not for himself, but for his bandmates, and then for his father. It put the band in a bad position, sure, but at least he was half-blood. Though in the back of his mind he knew the decree would likely eventually expand to include half-bloods as well, all he could think of now was how he was sick with worry about what might happen to Don and Heath and Herman, and that he wanted to drink a lot of scotch and not think about it.
The bag full to bursting with bottles, and Seven whining from her spot on the sofa, Orsino glared at the ceiling before apparating neatly out of the room. Just as suddenly he was outside of the house in Ireland that Gideon, Merton, and Heath currently called home.
Reaching forward, he knocked on the door, with considerably more force than he'd intended.