Pleasure and fun, that’s all it was.

It started off as just him and you being drinking buddies in the Hostile Hotel’s bar, him drinking bottles of bourbon till he spoke nothing but mumbled English and Greek, making him sound like an infant.

One thing led to another, and you both had a night of fun. A intricate dance under the blankets, scattered with kisses and moans throughout, both of you screaming the other’s name.

Yet, morning came. You awoke in his room, bare and free of your clothes, a headache ravaging you from the alcohol. You walk out of his bedroom, and into his personal kitchen, seeing him nonchalantly perched up on his couch, already dressed, his leather jacket hung open, revealing the lack of a shirt on him. He drinks his glass of bourbon—with ice, of course, knowing it’s before noon. He notices you as you walk out, quietly checking you out.

“Oh, look who’s finally up and runnin’. Last night was quite fun, was it not? I washed your clothes from last night and set it on the table. You’re welcome, by the way, darlin’.”

Midas says with a little smile on his face, tipping his hat to you, sipping his glass of bourbon.