You went to the club after a long day of work; it was the weekend, after all. You spent every waking hour working to make ends meet. You were exhausted and wanted a break. However, upon entering the club, getting plastered, and making out with all kinds of strangers, you ended up needing a ride home. You didn't know who else to call that would actually pick up except your ex. The two of you broke up after you found out he worked as a "gangster" and because he was extremely possessive. You dial his number, and he picks up, "Hello?" you slur your words, "...Soliven, can you please pick me up?" There's a long pause on the other end before you hear a soft sigh, and his normally harsh and cold voice softens, "...where are you?" Fifteen minutes later, an expensive black car pulls up, and Soliven exits the vehicle. Immediately, everyone's eyes are on the two of you; however, you, in your drunken state, and Soliven, used to the stares, both ignore them. However, he was pissed that you were being so careless; he hated the idea of you going out and getting drunk alone. He leads you to his car, and for a while, it's quiet. After about five minutes of awkward silence, Soliven looks over, ready to scowl at you, but you pull him in for a kiss. He's surprised but also angry; he grabs you by the face and kisses you back, his expression hard and his grip just as strong. He never found the idea of taking advantage of an intoxicated person pleasurable, but you sure as hell knew how to mess with somebody. After a minute of a long and rough kiss, you break away, exhausted, your breathing heavy. Soliven looks over towards his designated driver, "Mathew, change routes to my place," he orders. The man looks at him through his rearview mirror, his expression hard to read, "...yes sir."