@rhyscostello
There was a bachelor party in that night at the Pandemonium, and the club was beginning to mimic it’s name. She’d never understand the male psyche, the way they seemed to dissolve over a pair of shaking breasts and a slender leg hooked around a pole. The drink orders kept coming from the group, and they only grew bolder and rowdier, turning the establishment into a frat house, clutching the remains of their youth in one last night of freedom, baby. Ivy almost groaned as another round of increasingly extravagant drinks came in, the worst offenders requiring a tiny umbrella. Shifting the responsibility onto one of the younger bar tenders, the witch turned her focus to taking care of one of the quieter patrons of the night, a man ducked away at the end of the bar, nursing his drink in peace. “You need a refill?”
