Odd name this, he thought as he pulled up in the taxicab, being directed to the address by an 'online' acquaintance. It'd been months since the comfort of his home in Carlisle, spending time with Susannah and Annabel had kept him from delving too deep into his own mind at what had happened. But it'd been weeks since he'd left that warm home and lurked in the mountains and hills of Montana and Idaho.
The inability to spend more than a few days at a time with friends or family had him nearly crawling out of his skin. Running the range as a were had helped, but as he looked at the black door, with the red emblazoned horseshoe, he knew what it was he needed. He hoped this would clear his mind and sooth the battered soul that was his.
A doorman, standing at the doorway, barred his entrance. "Can I help you?" he asked.
Nash, pulling out his phone, showed the man that text message he'd received from his 'acquaintance'. The man stared at it, then nodded and stepped back to open the door. "Enjoy your evening, Sir." he was told.
"thanks" he murmured before entering the foyer, taking his measure of the sounds before heading to the conversations and sounds of clicking glasses. The business was divided into sections. The bar with it's dancing and drinking. The upper level, which held the 'hookups of various sorts'. The 'lower level or dungeon' where the more deviant or specialized arts took place.
As he reached the bar and dancing area, his eyes shifted as he adjusted to the dimness of the light. "Guinness if you have it, rum if you don't," he told the bartender.
