Marcus was never usually a fan of clubs. They were loud, crowded, and filled with drunk idiots who ran into you, spilled their drinks, and tried to invade your conversations. Mostly, they just made him feel a little old. He’d always been much for of a bar person, and even that was pushing his tolerance for drunk bullshit. But tonight he could make an exception. He moved through the crowd, dressed in a simple black button up shirt and a pair of jeans. In his hand he had a glass of whiskey he’d picked up at the bar. The private rooms were near the back and he didn’t want to keep Justin waiting. Finally he made it to them, telling the Bouncer he was there to see Justin, and he was let in to a private booth. He settled into the small plush couch, waiting, bringing the whiskey to his lips.