After the last incident at dark, Nicht Gwydion Robinson, also known as pretty-weepy-elf-boy, (but not to him) had decided never to return to Dark. The music was too strong, the patrons were to off-color.

Needless to say, we find Nicht peering contemplatively into his glass of green poison after a long day of prosaic work. Lured by his liquor of choice yet again, the hapless elf stews in disparaging self-pity, heels of his black loafers hooked on a rung of his bar stool. His hair is as black as always, tumbling down his shoulders. Khaki slacks, light blue dress shirt. His tie is gone, his sleeves are rolled up, his collar is open.

He calls it casual Friday.

Others call it drunken stupor.

Jay calls it not half sexy.

The smiling fae, his ears glamoured to 'round', slides into the empty seat beside 'Nick', a half-finished drink in one hand. Tonight, he's dressed in a simple but chest-hugging black dress shirt, a neon blue tie, and jazzy siny black PVC pants that probably cling like hell. The ensemble looks good, of course, if you're into the Here I Am and I'm gay look.

Which Jay is.

His hair is gelled up immaculately, also streaked through woth blue, and he appears to be wearing neon blue eyeliner, wherever he got that.

He offers a suggestive smile to nicht, and says, "Hello again."

Nicht's ears twitch as he hears that voice. Yes, he knows it. It's not as familiar as his boss, but it's not so distant. He turns to the boy with the wildly colored hair. Nicht knows, somewhere, in the pits of his overly-critical, logical mind that this boy is not human.

Or maybe he's just too human for normal humans.

That must be it.

Leaning back and raising his glass in greeting, Nicht nods.

"Good evening."

But he doesn't mean that.

"Oh, it's glorious."

He raises his own glass in salute, and takes a sip.

"So, how are you doing? Still in denial?"

Nicht has the distinct urge to groan something like, 'not this again', but he does not know why. Is he in denial over something? Then he recalls it - some sort of debate over magic or some such thing. He can't recall the outcome.

"I can't....Well, I guess so. I don't remember."

And then he really starts to drink.

"Maybe you shouldn't drink so much, Nicky-boy," Jay says, a hint of concern entering his tone.

"Then you'd remember what we said-- about being proud of your heritage, and all that other stuff you didn't believe."

Nicht thinks for a moment, which is unusual for him in such a state. With a deeply confused look on his effeminately angular face, he turns to Jay.

"My heritage? Irish and German?"

And still that feeling of something deeper tugs at him.

"Elfin. But whatev."

He shrugs, sips, smiles.

"Hven't seen an elf so intent on blasting out his brains in a while."