Her key had only just slid into the deadbolt lock of the front of her seemingly dingy little store when the cellphone in her purse chirped merrily, the sound ensnaring the young witch's attention. A small frown tugged at the corners of her sweetheart lips as Serafina turned her key, only to pull it from the lock before she fished through her purse for the small device with its flashing notification light. Her eyebrows furrowed as she turned on the screen to read the truly unexpected text message displayed there. Serafina's gaze rose to glance down the sidewalk in quiet consideration. She was hardly far from the Cull and Pistol, but she hadn't exactly met up with the ivory haired witch since the pair had first met. It felt like lifetimes ago, even if it had just been a few measly years. Why then had she reached out now, after all this time? The mystery continued to tug at Serafina's brain, coaxing her towards the seedy bar without a moment's consideration even in spite of her previous plans for the evening. After all, one drink would hardly hurt, would it? It wasn't as if Azrael would notice she was home late when he was far too busy galivanting around the city now that the sun had fallen anyways.
Her signature ankle boots thudded quietly upon the cement as Serafina navigated those familiar dark alleyways and quiet passages between her shop and the bar. She could hear the music from the jukebox by the door before she even entered the establishment. The heavy scent of cigarette smoke filled her nostrils, the very air itself somehow hazy as she glanced around the bar. It was hardly difficult to find the woman she was looking for - the witch's white hair was a veritable beacon as she sat with drink in hand at the bar - clearly watching a game of pool from across the room. This was hardly the sort of place that Serafina might have decided to spend her Friday evening - the young witch so often preferring the posh interiors of far more upstanding bars than some place so...tacky. Nevertheless, she made her way toward Vhalla, entirely ignorant that the woman at her side was in any way any sort of companion. Serafina positioned herself on the free side of the ivory witch, her hand lifted to wave the bartender in her general direction. The man's scruffy voice could hardly be heard over the shouts of the pool game behind her, the man hardly looking pleased even as he glanced briefly at the witch beside Serafina. She hardly paid heed to his glare, however, as she placed her order.
The stormy gray of her irises watches him in studious silence, hardly remarking upon the hurried way he poured the drinks. It was, she was certain, a result of visiting a less than stellar establishment on a busy night to begin with. Her expectations were clearly not high. Nevertheless, with martini glass now in hand, Serafina was more than content to comfortably twist upon her stool to turn her gaze towards the same game that had so enraptured her companion as she commented with a singular raised brow.
serafina dubois