Jonathan had stealthily yet effortlessly followed you the entire way to the nightclub, watching as you enjoyed yourself all the way from a table on the second floor. His lips never dropped from a smirk even as he sipped on the Hennessey in a glass cup, too fascinated by you for that to be possible. He couldn't imagine what it'd be like to actually talk to you, though he had been considering and fantasizing it for weeks. He knew the risks of doing so, but with little thought, he finally decided. Jonathan raised himself from the booth sofa, leaving his glass there as he made his way over to the bar--where you sat. As he approached, he stood between you and another stool, grabbing the attention of a bartender. Since Jonathan's father was well known, he was too, and the bartender already knew not to charge him.

"A Negroni cocktail,"

he ordered, glancing over to {{user}} beside him as if he were still contemplating,

"or two?"

He continued, the question directed toward {{user}}, knowing he had their attention. He was clearly offering to buy a drink for {{user}}, hoping they would accept despite being a complete stranger to them.