Nighttime in Sacramento, California...not as busy as LA, but certainly not without it's nightlife. The city seemed to come alive with the many bars and nightclubs they have scattered across it's limits. One such bar was the Guilded Kilt, owned by a fat short Irishman named Henry MacAlister. Inside, it was a lively bustling floor. A band clad in irish garbs were playing an array of celtic tunes. The pub was opened faced, but usually kept closed until the evening time, to promote the ambiance of the patio bar. Standing behind the counter, as always, was a young man named Christopher Floreston with silver hair and clad in a nice tuxedo. The man was of average height and thinner than some, but pleasing to the eye and always up for a conversation as he poured out drinks for the customers. He would strike up a talk with one patron or another over the course of the evening, cleaning glasses and flirting with the few girls who were only there for the drinks. He wasn't looking for anyone special at the moment anyways. His home life was complicated enough as is. As the night dragged on, things would slow down, working his amazing tip line down to a nub, but that was how all things worked in the serving world. The band finished their gig some time ago and had packed up, leaving nothing but the silence of the night and the clinking of bar glasses to keep him company.<br/><br/>Christopher peeked at his watch half-way through cleaning a glass, reading off 12:18. Finishing up the glass and putting it away, he rubbed his eyes just as one of the servers, a friend of his named James, came up to the bar and sat down at one of the stools. "Hey Chris. Mind pouring me a stiff one? Henry's left for the night and charged you with locking up." Christopher chuckled and shook his head. "We still have people you need to serve, and I remember him saying<i>you</i>were locking up tonight." James returned the laugh, looking out across the bar to the five or six patrons that remained. He was a lankier man with thick muscle on his arms and a decent complexion. The only problem with him was that he couldn't hold a girl's attention for more than two minutes with the self-righteous shtick he spouted half the time.<br/><br/>"Hey Chris, check out the fire-headed beauty over there. She seems to be quite taken with the evening, hm?" Christopher's eyes followed his friend's gaze to a young woman with long auburn hair. From the very moment he laid eyes on her, he could tell that her aura was off the charts compared to the friend beside her, although it lay dormant in a way that wouldn't cause any problems in the foreseeable future. He had actually been keeping an eye on this girl for quite some time, but he couldn't let James know that for obvious reasons. He sighed and shook his head. "James, your full of it. I suggest you get back to work before you scare another girl off." James scoffed and stood up. "Proves to you that you just don't know what you're talking about. Watch and learn."<br/><br/>Christopher laughed and watched as his stupid, albeit good-hearted, friend made his way over to the young woman, his attention drawn to a pair of men who seemed much more of a problem for him right now than a good-looking girl. He stepped out from behind the bar, making his way outside for a smoke. "It's too early for this shit..."