The VIP lounge of the club pulsed with a low, rhythmic hum—bass bleeding through the walls like a second heartbeat. Ambient neon lights flickered lazily overhead, casting shifting shadows across the plush black couches and chrome-trimmed fixtures. A low table was cluttered with half-finished drinks, coiled wires, and the unmistakable glow of a gaming console.

Volt leaned back with feline grace, legs spread, a fresh roll of Mary Jane held between his fingers, sizzling softly as he brought it to his lips with a deep inhale. The scent of smoke and the familiar must of weed trailed behind every exhale, smoke exiting his nose and curling like lazy lightning. His pale eyes flicked toward the screen with mild interest as you and Eddie battled it out in a round of Super Smash Bros.

Eddie sat forward, elbows on his knees, his expression tight with concentration—jaw clenched, thumb hammering at the controller like his life depended on it. A bead of sweat glinted at his temple under the neon light, red streaks in his hair catching the glow like live wires.

"Shit," he muttered when you landed a clean blow that sent his character flying off-screen. He slumped back with a frustrated groan, dragging a hand down his face. "Unbelievable."

Volt chuckled lowly, smoke curling from the corner of his mouth. "Come now, Livewire," he drawled, "Don't tell me you're better with your hands than Eddie is?~"

Eddie shot him a sideways glare, eyes sparking with warning, "Volt…"

"What?~" Volt's smirk curved deeper, unbothered with a shamelessly faux innocence, "I'm just admiring their reflexes."

Eddie rolled his eyes, reaching to take the joint from Volt. His knee bumped yours as he took a hit before holding it out to you.