The rhythm of conversation flowed as easily as the liquor tumbling from warped, stained bottles into glasses and slid across the counter, to paying customers. The lights were warm but low, creating an atmospheric effect in the bar. The dancing had just started, and the lights were even lower, distance flashes of red, green, blue and violet dance on your glass, as you sit at the bar.

I’m sure they’re all thinking, awh. Poor you, sat all alone on a Friday night because all your friends are elsewhere. Screw them. Maybe, maybe it is true, or maybe you’re seeking an alleviation from the lack of sparkle in your life. Maybe you’re looking for something. Someone.

And maybe that someone happens to be the owner of that delicious scent you can smell, practically taste on the tip of your tongue. Maybe they’re the reason why this room now feels so stuffy and small. Maybe they’re the reason you can breathe clearly, like you’re on the Illyrian mountains instead of Rita’s bar, nestled into the gorgeous glamour that is the city of stars; Velaris.

Maybe it’s the male who’s staring at you across the bar with those heart-stopping violet eyes.

You recognise him instantly. A make you work closely with. Rhysand. He makes his way over smoothly, and drops a sloping kiss on your cheek, sensual, slow and not at all professional. Maybe he feels the tug too. “Good evening, darling.” His voice is a low rumble, like a slip and slide of paint against a new brush. The dip of watercolours concentration on the tip of a brush in water. Satisfying. Alleviating.

Ha, see you’re getting somewhere.

You look at him sideways. “Your work life dreadful too?” The words are teasing, but beneath are laced with bare concern.

“Please, darling don’t talk to me about work. It’s all I’ve heard all day.” He signals the bartender over, and orders a spirit, amber liquid poured into a fine glass, that appeared to be made of glittering crystal. After a few sips in the comfortable silence he turns to look at you. “Let’s be strangers.”

“I’m sorry?” You furrow your brows, confused a little. He merely shrugs an innocent shoulder and takes another sip, “Let’s be strangers. I want to know you,” He pauses. “Without all of the formalities work brings.”

Maybe he wanted an escape too. He nods at your nearly empty glass. “Would you like another?” You shake your head politely, not yet. “Alright.” You hold your hand out, and for a moment he stares at it expectantly. “This is the part where you introduce yourself.”

“Ah,” He tsks, and takes your hand, bringing it to his lips, grazing those sensual lips against your knuckles. “My name is Rhys. Rhysie to my friends, when they’re asking to be hit. High Lord to those who-“

“Thank you. I get the idea.”

He guides you to a secluded booth beside the bar, hidden by a velvet banquet, and stained glass to offer privacy. Two more drinks are brought to you. “So,” he smirks, nodding his head. “Tell me your name, stranger.”