Blaise stepped into the nightclub smack in the middle of Muggle Verona and immediately felt lighter. Things had been... heavy ever since he'd left England on rather short notice. Daphne's screaming, Draco's haunted eyes, Theo's careful pleading for him to stay to help manage a still volatile Draco, had been weighing him down for the entirety of the two weeks that he'd been in Italy. Earlier in the evening, he'd been sitting in his newly-renovated flat (his grandmother's taste was truly abysmal and the place had needed work), when he'd felt suffocating by thoughts of home, and the people he'd left there and had decided getting out, getting drunk and, if he was lucky, getting laid, were required. Forty minutes and a rather exhilarating cab ride later (he'd never been in one, after all), and Blaise was stepping into pulsing lights and pounding music. Bodies of all shapes gyrated and twisted on the neon-colored dance floor and the air fairly shimmered with alcohol fumes. He grinned, determined to forget all the bullshit, and headed for the bar. He fumbled a bit as he ordered, unable to decide on what he wanted before settling for something with Grappa in it. Drink in hand, Blaise turned his back to the bar and let his eyes wander and roam around the busy dance floor. Somewhere out there, or perhaps somewhere on the level above, where the private booths were, was a woman he would meet, charm, and bed before the night was out.