A Proposition

Luka sat on a barstool in the middle of the crowded pub, nursing a firewhiskey that had hardly been so much as looked at. The sleek watch on his wrist pulsed with a little red light, which flashed exactly eighty-two times a minute, a heartbeat in sync with his own. He frowned as he looked around at the crowd of wizards.

Not one of them was looking his way. The man didn't need any spell to know how to blend in, especially not among folks whose tendency it was to stand out. He carefully looked up towards the door again, only to see it opening up to a band of young witches, most of whom were already drunk. He smiled to himself as he once again made the small discovery that these two worlds were not only alike, they were one and the same. A threat to him, was a threat to them, too. Even if they didn't want to acknowledge it.

Luka narrowed his eyes as the blinking on his watch began to slow down, turning a dull amber color. The smile on his face grew as he prepared to meet an old friend. Before the night was out, Brock would be a Son again.

Brock swaggered in with so much swag man you wouldn't believe all the dtf looks he got from them attractive young witches over yonder. Beer goggles were a hell of a thing but right now he had to focus he had two youngins to think about now, along with all three of those laaaaadies he held close to his heart. Brock's pimp game had to slow down for a bit.

His gaze swept the swankified place he'd decided to meet his boyyo Luka in, but when he saw Luka it was with mad red in his gaze man Brock was so angry it was cray. "Luka." His voice was so deep and sexy it was like a growl grr. "What do you want?"