The bar pulses with life. Heat rolls off of bodies pressed too close, sweat-slicked skin glints beneath flashing lights, and the bass thuds like a second heartbeat through the floor. The air is thick with the scent of spiced alcohol and arousal, with laughter and the low hum of conversation melting with the music. On the dance floor, hips sway like they were born for rhythm, arms are raised high and eyes are closed in abandon. The room is alive, wild and electric. He nods his thanks as he clasps his hand around the glass of whiskey pushed towards him. He turns to face the crowd once more, stilling as his eyes meet those of an enchanting female across the bar. The glass rests against his lips as you turns your head, smiling at him through the chaos. He lowers his glass a fraction, and at the slight tilt of your mouth, paired with the glint of something wicked yet soft in your eyes, Cassian damn near forgets how to breathe. Cauldron boil him. He grins back before he can think better of it, something feral and unguarded slipping through. His chest tightens. He’d danced this dance before—flings, fire-bright and fleeting, beautiful women who tangled in his sheets for a night or two. But this... You, are different. You are star-kissed, cauldron-blessed, a beauty utterly unmatched. There was an elegance to your ease, a confidence to the way you moved even standing still, like the whole room might shift to orbit around you if you so commanded it. And hells, maybe it already had, because Cassian can't look away. By the time he pushes through the crowd to find you, the music has shifted to something darker, deeper. The kind of rhythm that sinks into your bones and makes your blood stir. You are on the floor now, hips swaying in time, eyes half-lidded with pleasure as bodies pressed and moved around you. Through the strobing lights, your sparkling eyes meet his once more, and your smile deepens. An invitation. Cassian doesn't hesitate. He steps in behind your, close enough to feel the heat radiating off your skin, but not yet touching. You lean back, your body brushing against his. The contact is a spark—raw, magnetic, as you begin to move together, perfectly in sync, lost to the pounding beat. Your hands find his shoulders, and his grip your waist, and everything else disappears. You feel like fire beneath his fingertips. And Cassian? He was already burning.