Shouta didn’t even want to be here.

He sat at the bar, a light beer in his hand. He glanced around, halfheartedly looking for illegal activity, though he found none. He wanted to be at home, with his husband and his cats, not here, in this loud, bright, overwhelming place.

The only thing he found interesting was how the bartender, who wore a masquerade bird mask, was watching one of the dancers. He glanced over every few minutes, casual as ever, like he was checking to make sure the dancer was still there, safe.

Shouta wondered mildly if there was something between them.