Erzats was in some ass end strip joint, getting a lap dance he didn’t seem to be interested in. He’d been coming here for a few months now; the owners were piss scared of him, enough so to give him free booze, free drugs, free whores. None of them made him feel anything, even if he thought they did. Wished they did.
With a sigh, and a black glob of spit flung from between sharp maw to land on the floor, he kicked the girl away from him. She landed, painfully, scurried away. Erzats wasn’t phased, lifted a smoke to his lips, lit it with a click of his zippo. A battered old thing with a crucifix scratched into it. He didn’t notice the man approaching, until he sat next to him. At that moment, his gun clicked ---- if Bain looked down, he’d see it aimed squarely at his unmentionables.
❝ You move one fuckin’ muscle I ain’t expectin’ you to and I’ll blow your ballsack to kingdom come. ❞ He snarled, almost casually, before relaxing. A little. His gun never faltered. He was bored, after all. Maybe this guy had some amusement to offer ---- if not, he could just kill him. That would be fun. ❝ I ain’t for sale, sorry to disappoint. I could give’ya a little dance if you’re into that shit, but you’ll have to buy me a drink first. What brings you to my lonely side, here? You either real crazy or real stupid to get up in my business like this. ❞