( ☆ ) The 2am break was always the worst, in her mind. Reality was warped, no matter where she went for those 20 minutes–backstage trying to make sure Fernand didn’t get crabs ( again ), the 7-11 down the street with its glaring fluorescent lights and unsettlingly quiet late-night employee; the club’s vastly empty parking lot, silent except for the sounds of cars zooming past, insects, the hum of neon lighting, and the occasional couple smashing when they thought no one was around ( or perhaps they were too wasted to give a shit ).
Tonight, she’d chosen the parking lot, which was thankfully devoid of human activity. Haydée mindlessly gazed up at the dark sky as she leaned against the wall, light smoke curling out of her half-open mouth–only for such a state to be interrupted by the metal ‘employees only’ door slamming open and for a familiar man to come stumbling out. She straightened up instantly, face contorting in disbelief. It was one of the club’s high-profile regulars, one who came enough that she usually had his favorite drink ready the second he came to the bar, no questions asked. Goddamn, I’ve never seen him like this. Is he wasted? No, I didn’t even see him tonight until now.
“…evening, Officer Villefort,” she murmured, tilting her head towards him inquisitively. “What a surprise–I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you here on a Thursday night. Are you doing alright?” ( ☆ )
It was for the very reason Haydée hadn’t seen him earlier that evening that Gérard was exiting --- or, to be more precise, being shoved out --- via the back door: he didn’t want to be seen. He had a certain standard and reputation to uphold that would not be benefited by being seen at a strip club. Even so, it didn’t stop him from frequenting the joint ( out of uniform, of course ), but he was at least careful to conceal the reason behind his visits. So long as he was amongst other customers, he typically lingered near the bar, but all of his ( literal ) affairs were conducted in private. Such had been the case tonight until a rather heated argument with one of the employees had cut his stay short.
Though he wasn’t --- as Haydée had initially assumed --- intoxicated, he was somewhat disoriented as he was forced out the back entrance, more than a little surprised by the forceful air the dispute had taken on. It only took a moment for him to regain his composure, but he started once more at the soft voice acknowledging him from across the parking lot. He blinked, permitting his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting before recognizing his usual bartender lurking in the shadows, clearly taking her break at what happened to be an inopportune time for him. Again, he straightened, brushing off the events of the moment prior, and slid his hands into the front pockets of his coat.
❝ Evening, ❞ he nodded, sweeping his gaze along the parking lot before giving her his full attention; careful to ensure he had no other audience, ❝ Yes, I ---- had a matter to take care of, but now I plan on heading home. ❞ Or watching a few episodes of Law and Order on his phone to blow off steam. ❝ How has your evening been so far? ❞
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