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It had been strange to be at a bar out of uniform again; for so long, now, he'd been winding his way through the crowds as Ilmenite, largely abstaining from alcohol, siphoning energy from an enthusiastic crowd as he worked his way through bars and nightclubs and only looked a bit out of place in the uniform. He'd danced, some, and he'd cornered strangers, but it had been to drain them and leave them slumped in the corners for drunk friends to take home, or bartenders to find at close.

Now, though, he was back in battered t-shirts and too-big pants, had slipped into the bar and looked around like it was unfamiliar. Too quiet, this place, smaller than the big, packed rooms he'd been frequenting recently. He'd sat at the bar, long legs stretched out against the foot rest, and folded his arms across the counter. Too skinny, too sharp, as ever he was IDed as being too young and expecting a skeptical look when he produced an ID that was actually printed with his real age.

It hadn't come. Instead he'd looked up into glittering, amused green eyes, and his own expression had froze in recognition.

Now, an hour or more later -- he'd lost track of time -- he was folded more comfortably at the bar with his chin and hands and chatting up an impossibly-attractive bartended. Tall, blond, buff, tattoos showing across bare biceps, and obviously gay as they came, it was easy to see the draw. Easier still to see why he'd slipped into old habits, tone gone dry the way it did when he flirted, his own mouth curving into a smile more often that not. Ever could, at least, blame it on the two finished drinks lined up next to his half-empty glass.

Approaching feet got Ever's attention, made him raise his head from the now-almost-empty third drink -- a smile on his face, a raised eyebrow, maybe some joke about falling in prepared on the tip of his tongue. But this wasn't the bartender he'd been flirting with. Blond hair had been swapped for blue, and a good foot's worth of height chopped away.

Maybe he should have winced, looked guilty. Apologized. That wasn't Ever. Maybe he didn't even realize. Instead he recognized Zack and his smile widened, went crooked, fingers shifting around the edge of the glass. He was a happy, friendly sort of drunk tonight.

"...you're out!" Surprise, yes, but not horror. Not a hand-in-the-cookie-jar expression. He beamed at Zac.

What he'd been drinking would probably make Zac splutter -- because apparently this bartender [or maybe Ever] had decided that the best way to make a Vodka Tonic was to fill a glass with vodka and then gently spritz the tonic water over it. The final taste was close to paint thinner, bottom-grade alcohol as opposed to the good stuff. It could have used another distilling or four.

He watched Zac drinking it in a bemused way, chin settled on his hand. "I, uh, know the bartender, actually." He didn't clarify what kind of knowing that was, but his eyes flashed with amusement for a moment. "Did you talk to him?"

Dulled reflexes made him slow; Ever pulled his glass back and started to take a sip before he noticed the bead in his drink. He paused with it not quite to his mouth, blinking blurrily down into the vodka. It was another moment before he recognized it for what it was, and some of the calm went out of him, expression sharpening.

His eyes flashed back onto Zac and he frowned, finally, as he dipped fingers into his drink to dig out the pearl of energy. Turned it over between scarred fingertips and tried to put what had happened in logical order.

"I thought this wasn't on the agenda anymore." It came out mildly reproachful, and still confused. Ever didn't break it immediately. "Especially just a couple blocks from home."

Through the alcohol and the friendly good-cheer, Zac's meaning finally came through loud and clear -- and understanding was reflected in Ever's face. Briefly. Then his eyes went shuttered and his smile came back, lazy and crooked and perhaps a bit brittle, as he shifted the pearl of energy between his fingers.

"Oh, he is. Definitely was two years ago." It was mean -- unnecessary. Ever should have bit his tongue, especially considering the power Zac had just shown. He shot a look back toward the bathroom, where presumably the bar tender lay sprawled in a bathroom stall. Ruining his two-hundred-dollar-shoes.

"He had a really nice apartment, then, too. I think inherited?" Black eyes resettled on Zac.

Impossible to tell if he eventually would have given in and dropped the pearl against the counter. As it was, it was only too easy for Zac to pluck it from his fingertips, Ever's hand resettling against his mostly-empty glass now.The smile was still light on his lips, not quite mean but getting dangerously close, just watching Zac fuss with it for a moment.

"Are you done, then?" Dark eyes flicked back up to meet Zac's, and he didn't look terribly amused behind them. "With the stomping in and the accusations and the heavy-handed holier-than-though?"