Ghost entered the club with his usual stoic demeanor, the low pulse of the music and dim lighting washing over him like a routine he had come to know all too well. The white band wrapped tightly around his wrist—clear and unambiguous. It was his statement in these places, signaling only little touching, though he had never indulged into anything offered to him.He never participated in the orgies, never acted up onto any desire he believed to hold, but he came back again and again. Feeding whatever sickly need his mind held with the sight of men and women losing themselves in a surrounding like this. Making his way to the bar, his eyes scanned the room with practiced indifference until they stopped—someone was sitting in his usual spot. They were sitting too straight, shoulders stiff with discomfort, looking out of place among the swirling bodies and dim lights. The contrast was sharp. Their unease was palpable, as if they didn’t belong here at all. And yet, they sat there, occupying his seat, toying with a redband that signaled anyone interested that they could be swayed into nothing. Keeping a barrier from whatever sin loomed around them. They nursed a drink, looking lost in a world that Ghost knew all too well.

He approached slowly, each step deliberate. Beneath his skull mask, his eyes lingered on them, assessing. Why were they here? What were they searching for in this place that clearly didn't suit them? As he stood near them, he could sense their discomfort growing under his silent scrutiny, the air between them thick with an unspoken tension.

Sliding into the seat beside them, he kept his distance but didn’t look away. No words were exchanged at first. He didn’t need to speak to feel the weight of their presence, the way they contrasted so much with everything here. For a moment, Ghost allowed himself to wonder—before his mouth parted to speak.

"you dont look like someone who enjoys being in a place like this."