There were ripples in the crowd, murmurs and whistles. Like a stone dropped into a lake...or, maybe a slap on the ass would be more appropriate. Viktor hadn't paid it much mind, maybe he should have. Plenty of women turn heads at a bar full of lonely men far from home so it should have been only that, except that it wasn't. Despite the lessons he's learned over lifetimes, this one seemed to slip his mind at the wrong moment. Fate has a sense of humor and he could almost hear the laughter from on high as he stilled his hand and propped the guitar at his feet, looking out at the clapping crowd plus one.<br/><br/>Some details had changed but those eyes had not.<br/><br/>________________________________________________________________________________________<br/><div style="padding-left: 30px"><div style="padding-left: 30px"><div style="padding-left: 30px"><div style="padding-left: 30px"><div style="padding-left: 30px"><div style="padding-left: 30px"><div style="padding-left: 30px"><div style="padding-left: 30px"><div style="padding-left: 30px"><b>     Sometime Ago</b>​</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><span style="color: #a64dff">"Please, I can't."</span><br/><span style="color: #b30000">"A tool functions or a tool breaks. Now leave me."</span><br/>________________________________________________________________________________________<br/><br/>They were as cold as the depths of winter and in his seat he froze. Confusion, excitement, fear, and joy stormed within him until the gaze hardened. Yeah, maybe just fear would serve him best in the moment. His eyes darted to the window, catching the image of a guard standing outside in uniform on patrol. Brandishing a toothy grin, Viktor stood from his chair and took a bow to more applause. With an eye on Sheri, he reached down toward his earnings as if to retrieve them, putting his mouth out of sight and a hand into the box. A hint of sulfur seemed to tinge the air for a brief moment, to the layman it was simply a passing stench. To someone versed in magic it was unmistakable.<br/><br/>Suddenly one of the men at the closest tables stood up sending his chair clattering to the floor. With fury on his face like a snug mask, he grabbed a man at the next table and began to pummel the poor victim, cursing and yelling. Patrons at both tables jumped in, defending their friends, trying to pry them apart, throwing punches of their own. Just so happens that this fight broke out between the stage and the pale woman. It wouldn't buy him much time but it could at least get him out the door. While it may have been lost to those watching the fight, something had changed in the man on stage. Human eyes don't have rectangular pupils, and those sulfur yellow eyes looked back one more time as Viktor headed out the back entrance. The fear was obvious but more evident was the cheeky grin daring a certain someone to give chase. For old time's sake.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>