The lights are low, moody, and warm. Tellingly, not a single window is on the walls, locking the patrons within on a time of their own making; no daylight or moonlight to tell them what time it is, no clocks on the walls. It’s more like a casino than a club, but the loping swing under the fog of libidinous breath and the haze of cigar smoke gives away its status as a swanky gentleman’s club, the moaning sax and the thump of a standing bass’ strings completing the atmosphere.
He arrives, and it’s not long before a tall, snappily-dressed, pale fellow descends, a spectre, from the private balcony, his otherwise flawless complexion on his face marred by a scar across his left cheekbone, and another slightly cleaving his lip on the right.
In the dark, his eyes seem to gleam with a predatory iciness, but he holds no malice to his muscle for the evening.
“Ah, are you the bouncer Mum told me she was sending?” he asks, his voice more of a thrum than anything else, so deep is it, “I hate to make assumptions, but you have the build for it, darling, and you’re right on time.~”
Such a spectacle falls on deaf ears. His hands clasped in front of him, Airin absentmindedly taps his foot to the rhythm of the sax. It’d been… too long since he’d listened to real music. Sure, the up-beat bullshit MB had on had its perks sometimes. Though it mostly became background noise. The only music at work to catch his interest came from Kamaria. A voice so beautiful the angels cry.
His soft expression snapped back to being pressed. The bouncer wouldn’t forget he was made bodyguard tonight. At least where MB sent him wasn’t all that bad ; and the man he was aiding admittedly wasn’t bad on the eye.
“ That’d be me– ” Airin offered a curt nod. “ ‘Told I’m watching over you tonight. What mischief do you plan on getting into? ” His tease tickled a purr. “ They call me Airin by the way. ”
Deidre smiles ever so softly, but his eyes are sharp and cold, as Airin seems to be lost to the music before he realizes he’s there. He has such a sweet face, puppylike, almost, though he has that sternness to his brow that’s model for a man of his caliber. To be expected.
“Oh, I don’t plan on getting into any mischief, pet, it’s that there are people out there who don’t appreciate me breathing, as it were.” He gets a name, or a moniker, at least, and he smiles wider, though scarcely any more warmly. “Airin. There’s worse names you could have. You have the privilege of calling me Deidre. Enchanté. Come along, young man, I imagine in a place this nice, you’d like a seat with a view.”
With that, he turns on his heel, beckoning Airin after him with a half-raised arm, two clawed fingers up to coax him to follow, his other hand kept in a loose fist to the small of his back. Already trusting him.
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