Squeezing herself out from the press of people, Hannah smoothed out her dress before walking smartly over to the bar. She looked good tonight, a rich red dress that hugged her curves around her bodice, spreading out lightly from her hips and ending just above her knees. The little black heels adding that little bit of height. Her hair down loose curling gently down her back. Her eyes rimmed with black beneath the long lash.

She looked good, she looked confident but hell she was terrified. She was still in her first week of moving her with few friends, no contact with her family for the time being. Normally she'd be fine in a situation like this with friends, laughing loudly with the girls and whispering quietly to the boys.

So this was how being vulnerable felt like.

Darting into an empty space at the bar she called across her order, repeating it to the barman after a sudden fresh blast of music.

What the hell am I doing here? Ben Drake thought to himself as the alien music blared around him.

He leaned up against the bar and watched the throngs of dancing people. Ben wasn't a dancer, he'd never had much practice at it and had no natural sense of rhythm. In his hand was a glass of Crown Royal on the rocks and he took another sip while he continued to scan the crowd. He forced himself not to check his watch again. This was the right time, hell it was was 30 minutes passed the right time, and he was fairly certain this was the right place.

The email had been fairly specific, but then maybe something had come up, it wasn't like the client had anyway of reaching him, he couldn't carry cell phones. They were too expensive to keep replacing when he inevitably fried the electronics. As it was he ended up going through more then a fair number of watches regularly, and could only ever wear the cheapest Walmart special.

Not for the first time Drake considered packing it in for the night. It seemed obvious the client wasn't going to show. It really was a shame too, the request had been for a semi-rare, but fairly expensive scroll on Roman agricultural magic. Ben had even had the scroll in his private collection and over the past week had managed to transcribe a copy. He really could have put that commission to good use, the rent was due soon, and the pantry was running a little bare.

Maybe I should start experimenting with that lean to gold incantation again he pondered as he swirled the last of the Crown and melting melting ice in his glass.

Even among the bright flashing lights and rainbow assortment of clothes in the club, it wasn't hard to notice the woman in clinging red dress as she moved out of the dancing throng and towards the bar. Without even consciously realizing it, his dark blue eyes locked onto her and tracked her progress across the room.

Ben hadn't even realized that there was an empty space beside him at the bar until she slid into it and leaned over to shout her order. He suddenly felt acutely aware of his generally abysmal style, or lack there-of. His traditional battered and faded leather jacket, an olive green t-shirt and faded denim blue jeans. At least he had remembered to shave today, and he'd buzzed off his dark brown hair to a fine fuzz a few weeks ago so it wasn't even possible for it to look mussed.

Without even considering it, he turned around to face the bar and motioned the bartender for a refill while he filled the woman in red's order.