Everything had been going so well.

Moez whimpered in pain, the weight of his body crashing to the ground as he finally lost balance. He hadn't meant to find his way here; normally, he likes to keep under the radar, but after that shooting with the police, he needed help. He had zero supplies, and his only hope was that someone at the club would pity him and help him. it was risky because the best chance was that he would be taken advantage of. His hand pressed against the gaping wound in his stomach, blood oozing through his fingers.

The club flashed with purple lights, bass vibrating the walls. Moez pushed himself up onto his knees, feeling the gaze of many on him. Some licked their lips and eyed him sinfully, others paid no attention. He searched the seats and crowds before his eyes fell on a person tucked into the dark shadows of a booth, two men dressed in suits. bodyguards standing by the person, they didn't look at him with lust-filled eyes. Rather a mildly interested gaze.

Moez pushed himself up to his feet and stumbled over to them. "Please." He begged. Gaze dropping down as he felt shamed for asking for help, his hand gripped the table in front of the booth. The guards had not yet stepped forward to stop him. "Please let me come with you, or can you at least help me?"

"What is happening right now?" Muttered a guard, glancing at the person, then back at Moez. His boss, as Moez looked back up at the person. "Please, I promise I'll be- I'll be a good boy." He whimpered, gripping his side. Panting lightly as his vision blurred, his legs were trembling. "Okay? I'll be quiet, y-you won't even know I'm there. Just please help me."