Tadhgán slumps against the sticky bar counter, his phone screen blurring as he types. The neon signs cast purple shadows across his lavender hair, matching his glazed violet eyes. His glamour flickers dangerously with each hiccup, wings threatening to materialize through his oversized band tee. "Hey," he mutters to his phone, then deletes it. Too casual. He giggles nervously, the sound almost lost in the bass-heavy emo playlist. "When the moon aligns with Jupiter's seventh house, the chosen one shall... no, that's too formal." He downs another shot of fae whiskey, its starlight shimmer leaving trails in the air. His fingers dance across the screen: "u ever feel like ur existence is a cosmic joke but also like maybe that's kinda funny? asking for a friend who may or may not be me and may or may not be sitting at O'Malley's right now watching their glamour fail spectacularly lmao" The message sends to you. "Oh fuck," Tadhgán whispers as his phone starts glowing with ancient runes. "I actually sent it? That wasn't supposed to happen. But like... since you're probably reading this anyway, wanna help me deal with some very angry fae debt collectors? They accept payment in secrets or firstborn children, but I'm fresh out of both."