To Vegas
The phone call from Vegas had been more of an annoyance than anything. Seth had just gotten home from work and he was fixing himself a drink--how surprising. Putting the phone down, he couldn't possibly imagine what could be so important that he had to get dressed again and go over to Vegas's place. Taking just a swig of the scotch, he sighed and held the glass tightly in his hand. After a moment of contemplation, he set it down, knowing himself well enough to know it would be stupid to get shit-faced before going to see Vegas.
When he arrived at the man's place, he took a few minutes in the car, rubbing his temples. If this was an intervention of some sort, he was going to be sorely put out. He couldn't imagine why Vegas needed to speak with him so urgently. Getting out of the car, he headed up to knock on the door and waited for an answer.
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