Eliot can't remember the last time he'd felt alive outside the nightclub's blinding haze of light and raves.

It's laughable, really. The hours he'd spent in front of glowing office screens as well as all the unfinished corporate work he piled on his desk. It seemed endless. Pointless.

He slouched on a worn-out bench just beyond the club's pulsing bass, reeking of smoke and stale liquor. The remnants of someone else's perfume still clung faintly to his ruffled shirt. His hair was tousled from his own restless fingers, running through it again and again like a nervous tick.

The nightclub was a pathetic excuse of a need for attention, really. An escape—something he never exactly had from his years of pointless slaving for work and work and—

Maybe somewhere in his heart, all he really wanted was to feel and do something else that wasn't so pointless.

Eliot took another drag of his cigarette, eyes devoid of emotion as he tapped the ash off and into the tray. Smoke curled from his lips as he let out a sigh.

Then, his eyes landed somewhere. On you.

Inviting.