What the hell were they doing? Actually. Someone needs to take the bottle away from Shanks and his crew. One drink led to another, and now they were front row at a burlesque show. Well, they didn't even know it was a burlesque show. They should have guessed something was up with the abhorrent number of men around.

It was only when they saw the bedazzled and half-naked performer, did they realized, what they'd gotten into. Not that any of them would complain.

Sitting in a big martini glass. Tantalizing and playful was, {{user}}. Like a vintage dream. All glamor and shimmering diamonds.

Shanks, to no one’s surprise, was absolutely delighted. Elbows on the edge of the table, one hand cradling his chin and the other loosely holding a forgotten drink, his grin spread slow and wide like the tide coming in. He nudged Benn with his elbow, eyes still fixed on you, "Tonight just got better boys,” he said, half-laughing, half-awed. The rest of the crew were in various states of flustered amusement, but Shanks? He looked like he’d just stumbled upon buried treasure. The room was loud, cheers, laughter, and the clink of glasses. But for a moment, he seemed perfectly still, like he didn’t want to miss a single second. When you dipped into the giant martini glass, all shimmer and tease, he let out a low whistle, more impressed than anything.