Just once, he wished Vegas would haul off and punch him. It would satisfy his need to have a tangible sort of punishment for not being around to protect Murphy from whatever force had come and stolen him away. He didn't care about a scene and as Vegas left, Seth turned around to look at the bartender. "What?" he said testily before finishing his drink and paying his bill.
As he left the bar, he honestly didn't know if he would go and meet Vegas by his car or not. Outside, the air hit his face in a cold gust and he stuffed his hands in his pockets, thankful that his blood felt hot under his skin from the drinks. His feet led him to Vegas's car and he leaned against it, waiting for the man to come out the stage door. "I couldn't get a cab," he lied.
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