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It wasn't, perhaps, entirely fair of him to have dragged Ashley along with him. He'd phrased it as 'hey, you have a fake ID, want to go to a bar?' and had failed to clarify that it was a gay bar. Not that there was anything wrong with that, certainly, but he probably should have clarified.

And he probably should have shared his motives before they were half a block away, approaching the doorway and watching two very, very well-dressed men disappear in through the front all but hand in hand.

"...it's just that, well, I'm trying to be good." Ever had dressed up. Or, well, dressed up for him. It meant, at least, that he was wearing a tie with his battered collared shirt, a nice belt, his least-worn-out pair of pants. He spread his hands as he talked to her, shaking his head just a little. "So don't let me do something stupid, if I get drunk."

A pause, clearing his throat. "Well, I mean, don't let me do something really stupid. I'm talking following strangers home stupid."

Ever was remarkably bent, yes; enough so that his head turned as they passed someone [tall, dark, green eyes, god help him] and he was momentarily distracted, responding only with a humming sound of agreement. Then he seemed to catch himself, though, blinking and flicking his eyes back onto her, trying very hard to regain the thread of conversation.

"...uh. Yeah. A really effective cockblock. And one I'll pay in drinks." He offered a smile, too, bright and flashy and hopeful. They could, of course, always go somewhere else, but this place was fun. It was cleaner than most. The music was brighter. And the drinks at the bar came in a wide range of colors.

"It'll be fun anyway. No one'll try to...well, no. Almost no one will try to pick you up, but I guarantee they'll dance." He, himself, eased away from her with a vague gesture, backing up through the crowd toward the bar -- expression bright and amused. Ever rarely paid for drinks, but he also rarely had as much money as he did, right now. Having a job was kinda neat in that regard.

"Do you want something blue, green, pink, or do you want real alcohol?" It was only teasing, though, not genuinely cruel. He shook his head a little. "Umbrella or no umbrella? How many cherries?"

She'd have to speak up to catch him before he was out of reach.

Her trotting along after made him pause, drawing in a breath and flashing a grin down at her, fingers sliding up into his hair. Chagrined, maybe; she didn't do this with him often.He needed to slow down and play nice and he knew it, he just wasn't particularly good at it...

"You find a table. I'll get the drinks and find you. I have pretty good sense of direction in these places..." Ever gestured, vaguely, around the room. It was busy. Finding a table wouldn't exactly be an easy feat, and it'd likely take as long as getting the drinks.

"I promise not to abandon you at the first flash of a smile." With that, he took off again, weaving up toward the bar to fetch a neon pink thing.

She had time to stare. Ever took long enough that she might have worried, were she not so pleasantly distracted, but eventually he did appear -- vodka tonic, unadorned, in one hand, and a neon pink drink in a pain-in-the-a** up glass in the other. It was filled to the lip and he was struggling not to spill as he wove around people, his expression set into a line of worry that was borderline comical.

And she missed it. Maybe she'd get another chance later. As it was, he suspected an elephant could have come up on her table without distracting, and he set the drinks down quietly before he followed her gaze.

There were a lot of people on the floor. It was hard to be sure, exactly, what she was watching. But he dropped down into the opposite chair with a grin, arms folded over the table top, voice pitched to cut through the music. "Having fun?"

"Something good out there?" Sometimes, Ever did a pretty good job at blending in with the crowds. There were times when he hardly pinged at all, when 'pain in the a**' came forward much more clearly than than anything else. However, other times Ever came across just about as queer as a three dollar bill.

Here, in this element, with his chin on his hand and a crooked grin on his face -- with his eyebrows wiggling in a teasing way -- he managed both. He chameleoned into the crowd at The Walk-In, meshed with the lot on the dance floor. He fit in here remarkably well, even as poorly dressed as he was, comparatively.

"You seemed, um, focused." He smothered more amusement into his own drink, sipping at it slowly.

"Uh huh." Ever could tell there was something up, yes. Usually she grinned and teased, had a certain edge to her. Now she seemed her wishy-washy seventeen years old and that, in turn, made him fidget where he sat. He was a very bad man. Corrupting the youth. Immoral. He made a sound and decided to focus on the crowd behind her instead.

"Well, I can guarantee he's not interested in you, but for the sake of interest, which one?" He brought the drink up to his mouth again, wiggling his eyebrows at her in a suggestive sort of way. Ever knew next to nothing about her preferences and -- and, well, in reality, hadn't even thought about her that way. In his mind, Ashley and Sabine were still girls, in many ways. Not fair but...

"...hmmp." That seemed suspicious there, too, but Ever didn't push his luck. Instead he sipped at his drink and looked around them, toe tapping absently, thoughtlessly, to the pounding beat of the music. He was thinking about dancing, absently considering it, but found his mouth going, instead.

"Not exactly...sure why I wanted to come here so badly, except that I haven't in a while." Chatty. He wasn't even tipsy yet, and he found himself getting chatty, eyes flicking back to Ashley. "Um. Thanks for coming, though, I really do appreciate the backup. I tend to get stupid, sometimes..."

He shrugged, fumbling with the proper thank you and pulling a face. "Anyway, it's fun, I think. We should dance at some point."