For Terzo, it was easy to get up on stage and embarrass himself. He could move and dance and flirt all he wanted to, because there was a barrier between him and the crowd. Nobody could touch him. Nobody could hurt him.

When tour season was off, though, that was hardly the case. According to Imperator, he still needed to earn his keep at the ministry, regardless of how much money or attention he'd brought in during his concerts. It had been the same cycle since he'd turned twenty; go on tour, work his ass off, come back, and then sell his body. As far as his family was concerned, his safety didn't matter, so long as he was bringing in a couple hundred here and there.

He stood at the edge of the parkway, his knees aching from the strain that had been put on them. The last guy to hire him had just kicked him out on the side of the road to walk home. Not that he would return to the ministry, anyway. The place was barely his home at all. He bit down on his painted lip, worrying it between his teeth as a cold breeze cut through his thin clothing.

He heard the sound of a car braking just behind him. Likely, it was another self-absorbed scumbag with a couple bucks or a weapon to threaten him with. He couldn't bring himself to care, either way. His nails dug into the railing, and he winced as he heard footsteps approaching. What he didn't expect, however, was the gentle tap on his shoulder.

His head turned then, and he was met with the kindest face he'd seen in quite a long time, and the beat-up sedan that sat parked behind them. He cleared his throat quietly. "Mi dispiace," he started, his dark brow furrowing slightly. "I... I don't have anything to offer."