As it turned out, somebody else found Cally.
Tall, with an odd pale complexion, the master sorcerer Jarvis of the Celtic Cross - the Irishman Jerry O'Doyle in this lifetime - sat down beside Cally and ordered what else? Guiness.
"Lovely evenin', eh Calliope?" He chuckled as the bartender shot his bottle across.
"Oh, fuck off." Cally sipped her Brandy coldly, and turned away from the freckled ginger.
"Now that's no way ta be talkin' ta an old friend, lass, fersure!" He chuckled again and leaned in closer. "Word was, ye was on a bitta hard times, then. Somethin' of a washed up slut, they's sayin'. No apprentice, no fame, just fuckin' and suckin' all day long."
Cally's face burned bright red with rage and the hand holding her brandy shook violently, clattering the ice.
"Ohhh, did I hit a nerve, lass? Mayhaps these darrrty rumours, they bein' true, then?"
"Let me drink in peace." Cally said simply. "I would do the same for you."
"Aye, that much be true, at least. I'll leave you be, then. Perhaps another fine pub'll take me sobriety this fine eve." He tipped his hat, flipped the bartender a twenty, and turned to the door still chuckling.
"Fucker." Cally mumbled, though her frustration remained. How could she even consider these pathetic drunken mortals, filled with hedonism and vice, as remotely worthy of her teaching? And then, fate played another card for the washed up sorceress in the world that no longer knew her.
From the other side of the bar behind the dance floor she spotted a curly haired blonde. Young, beautiful, wearing a conservative red dress. She was sitting by herself, sipping not booze but a soft drink. Odd. Odder still, there was a weird aura of mystique about her. Of magic.
Cally's eyes widened as she spied a birthmark on the girl's left arm. A rough approximation of a long forgotten symbol above her wrist. The mark of the chosen.
"Good! God!" Cally gasped, almost at a whisper. She had to meet that young blonde!! If "Larry" had been here, perhaps he had sensed it too. That magical sixth sense could sniff out others like them. Others with the gift of magic. She had to snap this girl up before another like her did.
She rose from her stool, threw change down on the counter, and with purpose she hadn't felt in decades, she began to move in the blonde's direction.