Zaeed knew he wasn’t welcome here. His muddy boots, which lay on the otherwise spotless hardwood floor below the window, were not meant to enter the room. His calloused hands weren’t supposed to enjoy the silky-softness of the sheets beneath him. His dry tongue wasn’t supposed to enjoy the delicate chocolates, teeth crushing down on them without appreciation, like they would sustain him any real amount. Most certainly, his eyes were not fit to lie upon him. The rich boy. The son of one of the wealthiest men in the galaxy; and the boyfriend of a lowlife like him. If he was found here, in bed with this important man, he would be killed for sure. No one would remember his name. How exciting.

“Gang’s been busy,” he murmured through a bite of chocolate, leaned on the bed beside them. He knew they liked hearing about the gang he was in. Made them feel excited, or something. Escapism, he supposed, though why they wanted to escape a life of luxury was lost on him.

“Starting to get known, too. Gonna start my own gang one of these days.” He shifted, watching them. They always looked so damn proper. “Once I’ve got a name for myself.”