He's annoyed with himself, and he has interrupted brooding to finish, which he doesn't want Keye to see, so he's here. It's not his preferred environment, but his own home feels awkward and uncomfortable at the moment. And we know why, don't we.

He's wearing a black turtleneck--that almost makes him look young, and certainly serves as a reminder why Bo might have been attracted to him--and a pair of black jeans that he'd forgotten he owned. He's not sure why he dressed like this to go to the club, except that he doesn't want to attract too much attention while there.

And black looks good on him, anyway.

You might say he's hiding in that corner booth, with that shot glass of something clear--probably vodka; when Alexander drinks, he tends to drink straight liquor, for some reason--in front of him and a dark expression on his face.

Maybe he should go looking for Bo, and get the explanations that he wants. He's not going to get them from Keye, after all...

Speak of the devil.
Or half-demon, anyway. Bo spends a lot of his evenings here; the gothy look suits him, and it's always good for a 'snack' (oftentimes, he doesn't even have to be involved, to feed off the excess sexual energy).
He's here now, at the bar. He's bought something blue and possibly fluorescent to drink, and as he sips, he lets his eyes rove over the usual mass of writhing bodies, and then over the booths, where the heavier action is, and...
One solitary man, aging well, handsome, black-haired and black-clad, and Bo suddenly wants him all over again, because he looks so lonely, and delectably moody.
He shakes his head, quelling the thoughts, and walks over to Alexander, sliding in across from him.

Bo was met with a glare, as Alexander drew back slightly, involuntarily.

"Planning to seduce me again?"

It might have been a pleasant interlude, but the consequences and possible consequences were not, and he hadn't forgiven Bo for the theft of his energy. Alexander holds grudges, unfortunately.

In all seriousness, Bo tilts his head and replies, "If you want."
His teeth are alarmingly white and even between technicolor-glossy-crimson lips.
"But that is not what I came for, no."

That wasn't the answer Alexander had hoped for. A little guilt on Bo's part would be nice.

"I do not want." He scowled. He does that a lot; it detracts from his looks. "For what did you come, then?"

"For to t..." he narrowed his eyes at Alexander, as if the man had magically deprived him of his ability to speak English.
"To talk. You look upset."
A flicker of regret (not guilt, mind you. Guilt doesn't look good, and he long ago discarded any expression that didn't look good) crossed his face.
"I would not have you upset. That was not my intent."

"Mm. What was?"

He wants, well, specifics. Though it's doubtful that anything Bo can say will lessen his upset, because, well... You don't, er, lose your virginity to your son's best friend, then have your son come home, and not be upset.

"To help you and to feed." he replied solemnly. "Perhaps not entirely noble of me. I do what I have to do." A bit of a wince. "Also I did not know that--"
Er.
Awkward.

"That what?"

Unfortunately Alexander can't read minds. If he could, quite a bit of awkwardness would probably have been saved, both in the immediate future and in the past.

He isn't going to tell Bo that he might have helped, somewhat.

"That, er..." was Bo blushing?
It was not because of his own discomfort, but because of the potential for Alexander's discomfort.
"It was your...your, er, first..."
Which had been obvious fairly early on, but by that point, Bo himself had been too far gone.

"Oh. That."

He flushed slightly and took another drink of vodka. (He would probably be more embarrassed if he hadn't already had a couple shots of the stuff, by the by.) And he isn't about to explain why it was his first time.

Though he hadn't really thought about how people would perceive him...

"You expected me to be experienced?"

He's going to get around to asking what, precisely, Bo is, sooner or later.

"Well...yes." he bit his lip. "You're certainly old enough to have had a steady girlfriend or even fiancee...and you are good-looking...though, come to think of it, you don't exactly exude sexuality."

"No?" He almost smiled, but it was more of a wry twist of his lips than a smile. "For future reference? I have not had any kind of romantic attachment for over thirty years, not since high school."

He also didn't quite think of himself as good-looking. Mostly because he couldn't help but compare himself to what he remembered before.

"Not for lack of trying on the part of the ladies, I'm sure..." Bo muttered, smirking into his drink. "And with practice I'm sure...well, never mind. " He shook his head. "...is there anything else?"

Alexander choked on his vodka.

"I don't want practice!" he exclaimed, before he really could stop himself. That was the very last thing he needed or wanted, especially now that there was Keye to consider.

He swallowed and regained control.

"Actually, yes. What are you?" He already knows that Bo isn't human, but he doesn't know what the not-human bit means. Though he has a guess.

"Es tut mir leid!" he cried, starting backwards in his seat.
Taking deep breaths, he composed himself.
"It is hard to be absolutely sure, because I lost both my parents at a young age...but I have done some digging. I think that my mother was a demon, and my father was an angel...and the reason I had no living relatives is that my mother and father were outcasts for this reason."

"Mm. What kind of demon?"

He can probably guess that one, but the explanation makes a lot of sense, even without it.

And, shock of shocks, he actually feels a sort of kinship with Bo, because he doesn't have a family either. He was somewhat older when he lost his, though, probably.

"Succubus."
He toyed with his little drink umbrella (he always got drink umbrellas, even if the drink didn't ordinarily come with one).
"Surprised?"

"Not really. It explains the energy theft."

Ouch. He could probably have used a nicer word, there. Unfortunately, he didn't want to be nice, because that was one of the parts of the encounter that had made him rather angry.

"Theft!" Bo looked mildly indignant. "I payed you back didn't I? I always do. I do not say so because then people would run and I would starve, but I do!"

"Paid me back?" Alexander looked mildly incredulous. "With what?"

A headache, both from overextending himself and from dealing with an upset Keye? Or maybe the fact that he had to deal with an upset Keye at all? Alexander doesn't count the sex as 'payback.' He considers it the vehicle of the theft.

"You were in pain." he mumbled, needlessly inspecting his perfect fingernails. "I told you it was all right to cry, I comforted you, I...tried to help. Didn't I help you? I was trying to..."
He looked as if he might cry and ruin all his pretty makeup. Because if he hadn't helped Alexander, that would mean that he hadn't payed him back for the energy, which would make it theft, and wrong, just plain wrong!

Douglas was right. He was going soft.

Somehow, the fact that Bo looked so upset and worried about the fact that maybe he hadn't helped Alexander after all--which he had, at least temporarily, until the man came to his senses--pricked Alexander in that soft heart that he'd been growing lately.

"Oh..." he said quietly, looking maybe just slightly abashed. "I see."

Bo didn't cry, though (he tends not to spring leaks as easily as, say, Keye).
"That is...what I do. I try. I...do not know how else to manage my..." smirk. "...peculiar needs."

"Mm. I suppose that makes sense. Perhaps you did help me. Briefly."

Because even though he did help, it was mostly spoiled when Keye came home. Just because that was so very messy.

Bo nodded solemnly, because that made sense.
"If there is any way I can make it up to you...?"

"... no. I don't think so."

You might try keeping him from driving home, though. He's not quite drunk, but he's closer to it than he will ever admit. (This, by the way, is unusual. He doesn't usually drink away his problems; he broods about them. But he felt strange at home, so he came here. And you get drinks when you come to clubs.)

Not drunk, maybe, but a little tipsy. Bo recognized the signs--he'd seen Keye go through every known stage of drunkenness, and probably some unknown ones, too.
"How about I at least give you a ride home?" he offered.

Maybe more than a little tipsy, actually. He's not slurring, but whether he can walk a straight line is something that would have to be put to the test. He doesn't realize this, of course. It's been a long time since he actually got buzzed.

"I have a car," he started to object, then paused. How many shots of vodka had he had, anyway? If he couldn't remember, then he probably shouldn't drive... He was mostly lucid, which was good.

"... but I suppose you'd better."

"Now, or do you want to have a couple more, since you've got a designated driver anyway?" Grin. Bo had only had the one, and was quite clear-headed, so he felt confident.

"Perhaps. As long as you don't join me for the 'couple more.'" Please note, Bo, that Alexander doesn't trust himself to get drunk (or somewhat drunk) around just anybody. He knows that you're discreet, at least, even if he doesn't exactly like you.

So if you hear something very strange, don't go telling people.

Bo held up his half-empty, solitary drink.
"It's just this, and really, it's more juice than alcohol. You're safe with me."

"Mm, let's hope so. I imagine Keye would be very upset to lose both of us at once."

Suddenly he and Bo are an 'us,' at least with regard to Keye. That probably doesn't mean anything but that he's aware of how important they two are to his boy...

He did drink another shot of the vodka. He was already letting himself in for a hangover, after all.

"I will give you some mouthwash also, or breathmint, so that you do not upset Keye by smelling like vodka."
He smiled and nodded and didn't notice the 'us'.

"I imagine he'll figure it out anyway, when I have a hangover in the morning." He doesn't usually drink this much, but for once, he wants to get to the point where he isn't thinking and over analysing everything.

This will be a one time thing.

"He won't mind that you've been drinking, Dr. Barclay. The smell drives him crazy."
Almost literally, but Bo didn't go into detail.

"Ah."

He blinked briefly.

"... I think that's the first time you've called me 'Dr. Barclay,' instead of 'Alexander Barclay,'" he observed, looking oddly... discomfited. He hadn't realized it, but he'd gotten used to the strange feeling of almost intimacy, but still formality, when Bo used his full name.

"I'm...sorry?"
He looked a little confused. He hand't really noticed.

"It just struck me as strange..." And he isn't entirely certain why, either.

He ran a hand back through his hair and shook his head.

"Never mind. Not important."

"I sometimes forget, about titles. I probably just did not want to get mixed up. My language is funny about doctors."
Bo doesn't want to end up calling him Mr. Doctor or Mr. Dr. Barclay by mistake...but he was still trying to be formal.