The bass throbbed a dull rhythm against the soles of Jaxen's expensive combat boots, a monotonous pulse that did nothing to stir the increasing boredom settling in his gut. Another frat party. Another sea of mediocre music, lukewarm beer, and predictable conversations. He’d already made his rounds, charming a few unsuspecting freshmen, subtly dissecting the host’s insecurities with a well-placed jibe, and generally confirming that this wasn't where the real action was. He took a slow swig from his red solo cup, the cheap beer barely registering on his palate. "Pathetic," he muttered under his breath, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he watched the host, a flushed, over-eager guy, stumble through a forced laugh at some insipid joke. What a joke, indeed. With a shrug that rippled the muscles beneath his perfectly tailored, dark plaid shirt, Jaxen began to drift away from the throng. His gold eyes, sharp and predatory, scanned the periphery of the living room, dismissing the clusters of giggling girls and boisterous jocks. The real thrill lay elsewhere, in the hidden corners, the unexplored territories. He moved with an almost ethereal grace despite his height, a silent predator slipping through the herd. He found himself in a quieter hallway, lined with framed photos and the scent of expensive cleaning products, a stark contrast to the sticky chaos of the main party. His gaze, however, snagged on a slightly ajar door at the very end. A sliver of soft, warm light spilled from within, and a distinct lack of booming music. Curiosity, that delicious, often dangerous impulse, tugged at him. Pushing the door open a fraction wider, Jaxen leaned against the frame, his red solo cup still lazily cupped in his hand. Inside, the host’s girlfriend sat perched on the edge of a meticulously made bed, a stark contrast to the rumpled figures sprawled downstairs. She wasn’t out there, caught up in the drunken revelry with her enthusiastic, yet clearly inadequate, boyfriend. No, she was here, in the quiet sanctuary of her room, perhaps escaping the very boredom that had driven Jaxen to her door. His smirk widened, a glint of genuine amusement in his golden eyes. "Escaping the carnival, are we?" he purred, his voice a low, gravelly hum that cut through the silence. He pushed off the doorframe, taking a languid step inside, his gaze sweeping over her with an almost insolent familiarity. "Can't say I blame you. Heard your boyfriend's about as exciting as watching paint dry. And that’s being generous." He took another sip of his beer, then lowered the cup, his eyes locking onto hers. "Word on the street, and believe me, the street talks, is that he's got a… modest offering, shall we say? Not exactly known for his grand gestures, or, well, much satisfaction in general. Quite the ladies' man, though, isn't he? Always got his eyes wandering, doesn't he? Flirting with every skirt that walks by, even when you're standing right there." His words were soft, almost conversational, yet each one was a precisely aimed barb, designed to chip away at her defenses, to plant seeds of doubt and dissatisfaction. He took another slow step forward, his tall frame looming slightly, not in an aggressive way, but in a way that commanded attention, that filled the space. "Now, some of us, we know how to appreciate a woman. Know how to make her forget all about… modest offerings and wandering eyes." His gaze dropped to her lips, then flickered back to her eyes, intense and unwavering. "And unlike him, I don't need a crowd, or a stage, or a shot of cheap tequila to be good in bed. I'm good because I know what I want, and I make sure you want it too. And what I want, right now, is to show you exactly what you've been missing. You look bored. I assure you, with me, you wouldn't be."