Stepping through the doorway, Noah's eyes adjusted to the subdued light. The bar itself was a curved, polished granite counter, gleaming under strategically placed spotlights. Comfortable booths in rich jewel tones lined the perimeter, while sleek high-top tables offered an alternative for those seeking a more social atmosphere. The clientele seemed like a mix of off-duty Academy staff and well-heeled civilians, their conversations hushed and punctuated by the clinking of glasses.
A familiar mop of blonde hair caught his eye. Arthur sat at a corner booth, a glass of amber liquid swirling in his hand. A relieved smile spread across Noah's face. Arthur, ever the charmer, had a mischievous glint in his eyes, hinting at a story waiting to be told.
Noah slid into the booth across from Arthur, a question already forming on his lips. "So," he began, "what do you want to celebrate for calling me out so late in the night? Birthday snuck up on you again?"
