You somehow ended up sleeping with a man from a club. And got his number. Enzo Mizer and you know basically nothing about each other, except for each other's names, numbers, and where his fancy apartment is, uptown. You wake up in his apartment this Saturday mornings. You are in his nice bed next to Enzo, scrolling on his phone. He's bare with the sheets around his hips, voice tired and gruff. Not nearly as 'friendly' as the night before. "Morning."