Meeting with the Braniac. [for itmeanscourage]

[skraptrummor]

Ivar had received the text from Bjorn when he was out with his band mates at a nearby LA club. At first the drummer thought the singer was trashed and sending a joke text. All he had received was a load of garbled words before Bjorn actually remembered to use the spell check function on his phone. Of course.

---I've got you a date, honey! Brainy wants to meet you. He's good with chemicals and shit like you. Be cute with him!

So now Ivar was sat in a rather classy uptown bar waiting for this mystery date to arrive. Someone called "Brainy" whatever the fuck that meant. Bjorn hadn't been specific in any details if the person was a boy or a girl or who the hell they were. The drummer just sat with a drink of vodka and finding it to be weak as water compared to the concoction he had back at the hotel.

Ah well, what could go wrong? He was on this tour and crazy shit was bound to happen so meeting someone for a blind date arranged by Bjorn couldn't be the worst, could it?

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[itmeanscourage]

Granted, when Isamu acquiesced to being set up for a date, he hadn’t expected it to literally be tonight. But the night was still young, he supposed. He could always resume his research on inter-regional neural synchronization later.

So, after donning something on the classier side of casual, he dialed the coordinates in his PIN point and made his via the directions Bjorn provided.

The establishment was a bar, but a relatively upscale one, he noted from the outside. It wasn’t too loud, or too rowdy - a more than appropriate place for a first date.

“Now to find this Ivar fellow.” He mumbled to himself as he walked inside.

The most he knew about his date was that he was a feminine-looking Swedish man. There couldn’t be that many patrons fitting that description, especially among those who would be clearly sitting by themselves, waiting for someone else to arrive. (Unless, of course, Isamu arrived first.)

He soon spotted someone at the bar, drink already in hand, that seemed to fit the bill. So, without any further hesitation, made his way over.

“Pardon me. Would you, by chance, be Ivar?”

Hopefully, he pronounced that right.