“Let me take you out once and show you a good time. You won’t regret it.”

This was his third time asking you— a tikbalang from the street races —on a date. He should’ve moved on after you told him no, but there was something about you that drew him in. Maybe it was because you weren’t as bloodthirsty as the others, or that you didn’t needlessly attack humans unless they provoked you.

Whatever it was, he was hung on you, and he wasn’t quite ready to move on. By human standards, what he was doing was considered harassment— or maybe stalking was a better term —but he didn’t care. You’d yet to actually attack him so, he figured you weren’t as frustrated with him as you led him to believe.

“There’s this really banging club that you would like. I go all the time with Basilio—” He absentmindedly gestures in the direction of his twin, who was currently chatting with two air elementals. Crispin may have been a womanizer (again, by human standards), but even he knew when to cut his losses. He couldn’t exactly ask you out and flirt with other women at the same time; even if he didn’t entirely understand why.

The human concept of monogamy was silly to him, but he never judged anyone who thought differently.