The velvet-lined doors of Val’s studio swung open with a dramatic flare, the neon glow spilling out into the smoky Lust Ring night. Crimson stepped in, fedora low, cigar clenched between his teeth, his golden eyes scanning the lavish floor with the precision of a man who missed nothing. The music throbbed low, sultry, while dancers swayed on mirrored stages.

Valentino greeted him with that wide, showman’s grin, his voice dripping honey and venom. “Crim, baby—welcome to my palace. You got the coin, I got the toys.”

Crimson’s grin stretched slow, gold tooth glinting as he stepped forward. “Well now… reckon I came t’see what kinda merchandise you keep behind them curtains, Val.” His voice rolled smooth, thick with Southern menace.

Val snapped his fingers and the curtains pulled back, revealing rows of eager, polished bodies ready for inspection. “Pick what you like, sugar. Private rooms, no limits—just pay a little extra for the long sessions.”

Crimson’s gaze slid over the selection, unhurried, like a man surveying cattle at auction. He chuckled low, pulling the cigar from his mouth. “Mhm… reckon I might just take you up on that.”