It was supposed to be an easy night. She was going to go to the park, make herself comfortable under the old weeping willow tree, and utilize the magical properties of her patron moon to further intensify that potion she'd been working on for her latest client. This was supposed to be the very last step. Supposed to, supposed to, supposed to. God, damn it, when did anything work out like it was supposed to. She had been stalking the poor guy for at least two blocks now, not that he seemed to notice her in the slightest. Serafina was quite good at keeping her distance, at appearing as if she had other business then some fellow she hardly knew. It certainly helped that he seemed deep in thought and she had a whole lifetime of life on the streets to draw from. Really, it was the perfect mark and thief situation. Except she wasn't a thief...and he wasn't her mark....well, not exactly. It was more like he was someone else's mark, specifically the ghastly figure that had once fluttered and fretted behind him until she felt the pull of Serafina's own magic. She was like fucking magnetic to them. It was irritating. Sometimes, she didn't leave the house for days just to escape it. Serafina the samaritan. Maybe she should have played herself off as one of those crystal ball readers or....something. They were the ones everyone thought talked to the dead, right?

A soft sigh left her sweetheart lips as her stormy gaze settled upon the man, watching as he skirted into that bar with a clear intent on getting lost within that crowd of drunken debauchery. She couldn't blame him. He looked like he needed a good drink. Hell, she could use a good drink. Maybe she could convince him to buy her a drink - samaritan's needed their good deeds paid off right? Wait - was she here for a good deed? Her gaze slowly shifted to the corporeal figure beside her, watching the ghost as it fluttered and fretting, insisting she go in, insisting how much he needed her, even if he didn't know it, even if he wouldn't admit it. Something about help and...the Garden of Eden or some such nonsense. God, she hoped he wasn't some religious nutcase. She could hardly help that sigh that fell from her lips all over again, her hand reached up, running though those ebony locks, only for them to fall back in place with poised ease - the magic of good hair products. "I'm going to regret this." She muttered to no one in particular. "All right, all right, I'm going." Serafina continued to the ghost, only to open the door to the bar she'd seen the guy walk into.

It hardly took long to spot him amongst the crowd, their mutual ghostly acquaintance almost too eager to assist. Serafina easily wove her way through those tables, ignoring any eyes she might have caught in her rather direct route to him. There was a sort of confidence to her steps, an air of assuredness that hardly waned even as she slid into the booth opposite of her fellow Warlock. "So, you must be Christian. Your friend's told me allll about you. Though to be fair I kind of stopped listening half way through, she's pretty fucking annoying. She says you need help but she also seems kinda like the worrier type so don't waste my time if this is something as stupid as your toaster not working." The girl uttered, resting her chin within the palm of her hand as those blue-grey eyes stared at him, and then the air beside him....and back. "I bet she's your mom right? She seems like your mom. Or a lover. Did you ever have a wife? Girlfriend? God, please don't tell me your a virgin or something. Oh, what'd you get to drink?" That alcohol, it seemed, was far more interesting to Serafina then whatever problem she had to solve to put that ghost to rest and, in turn, to make it stop bothering her. That, of course, was what the young witch truly cared about.

serafina dubois