The Theatre District, mused Arrowhawk as he made his way over the rooftops towards his destination. Not my usual scene, but a change of scenery is supposedly good for you. The dark-clad archer finally arrived at the club he'd been directed to, swinging from the opposite rooftop towards a lamp-post, before completing his descent by leaping to the floor. Passers-by were shocked by his sudden appearance, but his garb was normal for the city. What's another cape, after all?
He walked in and up the barl, producing a photograph from his pocket. A brief conversation with a couple of the bar staff revealed that, no, the drug dealer didn't frequent this particular club. Well, that was a bit of a wasted journey, thought Arrowhawk, deciding it was too late to bother making the return journey. Instead, he bought a large whisky and decided to watch the stage.
A young women was singing up there. Not his type of music, but it still sounded really good. He listened through the whole set, clapping at the end.