Best laid plans

***

In almost 600 years of existence Hob Gadling had never grown tired of parties. The opulence, the music, the drinking- he lavished in it.

There hadn't been much to celebrate during the war, but now that it was finally, mercifully over, he allowed himself to indulge.

Though he was markedly changed by the horrors he had seen, parties were much the same, the passage of time only changing the scenery and attire of the guests. To Hob they were beautiful.

He enjoyed watching people drink, be merry, delight in one another's company. He felt warmth within himself whenever he heard the sound of laughter or that of two wine glasses clinking together.

Tonight was no different- he didn't particularly care for the Magus- but this friend Ethel seemed to frequent his parties, meaning he followed closely behind.

Good friends we're hard to find- and Ethel had this deviousness about her that drew Hob in.

"Where are you right now?" Ethel asked in his ear, raising her voice over the party that raged around them.

Music cranked out of a gramophone that sat on the mantle, that was one thing Hob did miss, live music.

"Did you take something from one of the Magus' followers? I never do, lord knows what they put in that stuff..."

He could hear her talking but he was somewhere far away- distracted- he watched movement from a darkened hall. A figure emerging from a door, cloaked in shadows, covering the entry with their body as they went.

"Hob!" The woman laughed preposterously.

"Sorry, beg your pardon." He laughed, shaking the whiskey glass in his hand as if it were the culprit.

"It's far too early for you to give out on me!" She was clinging to his arm. A lot of people figured that he and Ethel were an item, but that was far from the truth, she had her eye on the Magus and he... well he was currently interested in other- more modern- pursuits.

He watched the man that had exited the cryptic looking door walk down the hall and out the back of the house. He wondered where he could be going. Hob wasn't a suspicious man but he was careful, especially when contained inside the house of a supposed "magic user".

Hob wanted to laugh every time he saw the Magus, surely the man had to know how deluded he was.

Nothing as simple as a magic spell could prevent you from ageing. He happened to know the only being who could do that.

He felt his chest tighten, the smoke that filled the air suddenly thick and unbreathable.

"Not giving out, just getting out. Going for a smoke, back in a moment." He kissed her on the cheek before heading the way he saw the figure go.

Hob could tell from the way the hall was lit that it was not intended for guests. He walked past the door that the figure had been so interested in concealing, it was imposing. He jiggled the knob curiously. It was as he suspected, locked.

Hob continued onward, a renewed sense of curiosity. Maybe ole' Burgess did have something worth protecting down there.

He pushed through the door he'd seen the stranger take, his feet crunched against gravel.

In the moonlight, Hob could see the figure was a man, stocky, just shorter than Hob, with a dark head of curls and olive skin. He turned, (shocked) stunning blue eyes finding Hob.

"Think you're a bit lost mate." He said, drawing from his cigarette, smoke billowing into the frigid air.

"Was looking for a light?" Hob pushed, taking a step toward the stranger.