Theoretically, it would have been possible for both of them to move through the club the entire night and just miss each other. There were enough people roaming around ¿ǩevin? that it wasn't like one was particularly noticeable in the bunch. Hell, he'd already lost Sergius a few times, and they'd barely been at the club at all.

But that, Cal was learning, was simply not how his life worked.

"I'll have sex with an alligator," he rolled up to the bar, calling out to the barkeep and waving his hand at her sloppily just in case she didn't hear him over the rest of the noise in the club. After she acknowledged him, he grinned stupidly. "Again."

He'd only had three drinks (plus one borrowed from Sergius). That wasn't bad, he reasoned, quite regardless of how little or often he imbibed. He was feeling it though, and his arm dropped limply, lazily as he waited for his drink. He let it sag, swing, and then felt it hit someone. "Oh, sorry, m--" The apology died on his lips. That someone looked an awful lot like someone he didn't care to see. Certainly not here, certainly not now, and certainly not feeling like this.

"The fuck are you doing here?" He head stopped spinning, the fuzzy feeling behind his ears crystalizing. The hobbit was a literal buzzkill.