the thing about nightlife was that it was a different world. people who worked in it tended to know one another, because who else did you talk to after you got done wiping down the bar at two a.m.? the other people. the girls dancing on platforms, when their legs got tired but their minds didn’t, because the night never ended just because the doors locked and the drunks went home.

tonight, though, it wasn’t that late. he’d locked his before everyone else, because fuck four hours for five bucks.

he’d sent out a text or two. somehow, he’d found himself briefly behind a bar that he didn’t even work at, giving a hand while he shot the shit with the person meant to be there.

he heard her the first time, but didn’t turn, instead going to work making a colorfully layered shot with things he typically didn’t have to work with.

once he was finished and she’d called for him a couple of times, he turned and set it in front of her with a wink and a cheesy click of his tongue.

“jessie.”

@jessica

☉

“'cause i like it.”

roach leaned on his elbow against the bar, taking a load off but still not on the right side. he was enjoying the feeling of work when there’d been depressingly little at ritual as of late.

“it’s got grenadine, crème de menthe, galliano, rum, ‘n love.”

when she got her phone out, roach took quick action ahead of her. looking around himself briefly to make sure no one important was watching, he reached out with a silver lighter, rolled the wheel and sent a flame whooshing across the green surface in a bright burst. it was fun, and flaming shots always made for better pictures.

he sighed lightly at her request. “yeaaah, alright, fine. twistin’ my arm.”

he poured himself a unovan bourbon and then went to lean again. this time, the bartender was looking. he heard a ‘roach!’ and looked over, catching a finger gesturing in a circle around to the other side. roach shook his head and begrudgingly made his way there to sit next to her, but his grin didn't leave.

“how ya been, trouble?”

@jessica

☉

every single one of them, and surely she knew as much, being the entertainer that she was. still, his drawl was like sweet molasses through teeth too smirky to be losing so much money.

“just you, darlin’.”

he watched her take the shot, chuckling at her feedback and dismissing it over the lip of his own glass, “yeah, yeah… don’t tell the other girls.”

the mention of rocket assignments caught a small wince, as his eyes idled across randoms in the bar around them, avoiding her for a moment. he wasn’t grateful for being in the ranks. in fact, he felt imprisoned by them.

“an experience.” his walnut gaze found her again, the glow in his grin somewhat diminished. “huh.”

after a moment, the edge of his hairy mug curled higher once more. whatever brief cramp had just occurred was gone.

“ahh, same ole same ole. holdin’ down ritual—” barely. “—‘n all that shit.” see: criminal activity that actually kept the lights on. with its lack of business, roach figured ritual’s ability to remain open for so long might’ve been suspicious in itself. these days, the speakeasy below saw more traffic, and its profit was next to none. rocket had literally moved into his life rent-free.

“been kinda slow, since the whole fire fiasco, but we’ll get ‘er back. it ain’t over.”

his rough hand spun his whiskey on the bar, before he took it and rotated towards the floor. shrugged off worries and focused on the quality of their environment, a vision of willfully high(proof) spirits.

“fuck all that, though. what’re you gettin’ us into?”

@jessica

☉

roach enjoyed her company, too. his eyes narrowed a little—not in an unfriendly way. smirk grew. she had no problem piercing the illusion, just to fuck with him, but he’d never once been under any impression that he was special—he just had a good imagination, and knew how to make fleeting visits in fantasy without staying too long. he functioned well like this. it fed a void.

“you got it, woman.”

he chuckled, eyes leaving her again to scan the crowd as he brought the whiskey to his lips.

the support in her words softened the wolfishness in his face. “yeah, i ‘preciate that jessie.” a sigh. “it’ll come along.” would it?

she then informed him that it would be his job to navigate the course of the evening. raise some hell and live their best lives.

“sheit. raise hell, she says.” he laughed. “alright. devil drinks liquor.” with a turn and a few fingers up, two shots were soon being poured in front of them. “i say we get drunk first, ‘n then figure it out.”

@jessica

☉

feeling her body brush against his was always nice. he smirked, relishing in the moment before she let go of him again. a throaty chuckle escaped him.

“i don’t doubt it.”

a hand reached out to squeeze her bicep as she presented it, his smirk only curling more. “look a' that. yer gon’ kick some ass ‘fore the night’s over, ain’tcha? better put them guns away, ‘fore we get kicked outta here.”

his crooked grin flashed like a wolf under a full moon, and he took the shot with her.

“yeup. give that a minute,” he suggested, sitting back from the bar again with an audible, contented sigh.

and he really only meant a minute—enough time for the burn to settle before he craved it again.

”so where you dancin’ at this week?”

@jessica

☉

he grinned, jaw knocking back a little as though he’d been shot by her ‘guns’. “that you are.”

when she ordered another shot, roach did as well, but he’d wait for her.

“oh, that one.” he knew of something like that, closer to the upper district. “hell yeah, getcha that good money.”

at the mention of a show, he smiled, and it curled at the edges deviously.

“jessie,” he drawled, turning towards her and leaning in an inch to fix her with a warm gaze, “now, would i ever give you any kinda answer that wadn’t a ‘yes ma’am’?”

@jessica

☉

roach tossed his head back a little with the shot. when the glass hit the counter again, he grinned at her, shaking his head. “woah, woah, now. i never said i needed savin’.” not from her girls, anyways. but he leaned in a little further, his reassurance about as easy to see through as a window. “’sides, you know my eyes are on you.”

her pounding on the bar was a little wild, but it didn’t bother him. he hardly noticed the eyes glancing over at them, or the way the drinks sloshed a little. weak bar? this was why he had solid mahogany.

at the call-out of her coworkers, he shrugged. “hey, gotta make yer money. life’s about takin’ hold of opportunities. early bird gets the worm.” he took a sip of his whiskey. strippers were like car salesmen, descending on the possibility of a profit with a smile, but when both parties were staring at one another like a ripe unfezant, it was especially important to know who was really the prey.

“but i am a loyal patron, jessie, you should know that by now.”

@jessica

☉