The bartender shot her a smile before heading to the other side of the counter, grabbing a few bottles and a plastic cup on his way. After a good long while pushing her way through the crowd, she’d finally found a place to get a drink, and the line-up hadn’t even been that bad. Probably because most people were just on drugs, or brought their own flasks. Smart, really.
Esme was just about to ask the bartender if there was a bathroom down here, mostly out of curiosity (really, the catacombs were not built to house a rave), when someone behind her made a rather obvious come-on. The music was loud, but as Esme turned around she was thinking that the voice had been familiar--and apparently, it had been.
Henri--her uncle, she reminded herself--was standing there, a smug look on his face. The look faltered as he apparently realized he’d been hitting on his niece, which only caused Esme to smirk slightly.
“Should I pretend I didn’t hear that, or...?”