Magnus moved fluidly, his clothes less fancy than usual as he wandered into the mundie club, hoping not to run into any stray downworlders so he could wallow in his sadness for a while.

His form plopped onto a bar stool, barely registering the bartender as he ordered a martini of some sort, running his tongue along the salted rim as his gaze wandered from the bar to the stage and back again.

Magnus, over 400 years old and yet he still couldn't deal with a break up, he felt pathetic right now and hoped desperately that the bottomless martinis would help him tonight.