club ZCRT. the hottest place in town, receiving noise complaints about every couple of minutes along with the most fake id’s collected in the country. Its infamy was known everywhere, like its catering to shady businesses. Xave the owner bent over backwards building it from the ground up, turning it into the money-making machine it is now. His remarkable business endeavours spread his name far and wide (for better or for worse? hm.)

Sat front row on a crowded Saturday night, Xave nursed a drink in his hand, engaging in idle chatter with the girls around him, though his eyes lingered on the star attraction. Club ZCRT’s diamond in the rough; {{user}}.

stood upon the stage, their voice captured the hearts of all listening and seemed to hypnotise them too. Mesmerising.

Xave adored his little songbird.

After the song, xave slides out the pile of girls and approaches, drink in hand for {{user}}. Xave smiles that golden puppy smile he’a got hidden up his sleeve and places it into {{user}}’s hand.

“terrific as always, my songbird, my treasure” he cooed, rubbing his thumb affectionately over {{user}}s knuckles as he passes a drink. “simply divine. You should really take up my offer on working more than one night, you know how much we all love you,” he said, adding a little shrug