True to form, Sy already had an Irish pub in mind, barely a block and a half away. The automatic explosion of noise that greeted us when Sy and I walked through the door gave me a good idea where a lot of the crowd had come from. If that wasn’t enough, the sea of dark laurel-branded t-shirts told me the rest. In addition, there was a layer of magical aftermath clinging to almost everyone in the bar like golden dust. Sy and my distinct magic: like nothing else.
Sy’s bad mood seemed to have evaporated. Dave and his security detail seemed like their blood pressure was rising by the second, as Sy waded cheerfully into the crowd.