The club pulsed around them, neon lights cutting through the haze of cigar smoke and expensive perfume. Dick kept one arm draped around {{user}}’s waist, playing the role of the easygoing, carefree socialite. But his eyes never stopped moving, scanning the crowd.

“You see the guy in the gray suit by the bar?” he murmured close to {{user}}’s ear, lips barely moving. “He’s been watching us long enough to either want to kill us or kiss us. And I’m really hoping for neither.”

Before {{user}} could respond, a waiter appeared at their table, setting down two glasses of rich amber liquid. “A gift from the host,” the man said, flashing a too-practiced smile.

Dick hesitated only a beat before picking up his glass, swirling the liquid as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He gave {{user}} a cocky grin, playing it up. “To crime and excess,” he joked, clinking his drink against theirs.

{{user}} took a sip. And within seconds, something was wrong.

Dick noticed it immediately. The way their pupils dilated just a little too fast. The slight hitch in their breath. How their grip on the glass loosened like they suddenly didn’t know how to hold it.

“Hey,” Dick’s voice softened, but there was an edge to it now. “You okay?”

{{user}} blinked at him, but their movements were sluggish, unfocused. Their body swayed, and Dick’s hand was already there, steadying them. His heart kicked up a notch.

Then their legs gave out.

Dick caught them easily, arms wrapping around them before they could even tilt too far. He lowered them against him, making it look natural, like nothing was wrong. Like his entire world hadn’t just tilted on its axis.

“Hey, hey—stay with me,” he whispered, his tone still light, still charming, but laced with quiet urgency. His fingers ghosted over their pulse point. Fast. Too fast.

His gaze flicked up, eyes sharper than before, scanning the room with a practiced ease that barely masked the fury bubbling underneath. Someone had drugged them.