Aemond exhaled sharply, already regretting every decision that had led him here.

Loud bass thumped through the walls of the dimly lit strip club, neon lights casting everything in a sickly haze. The air was thick with perfume, sweat, and alcohol. Aegon, drunk off expensive whiskey, had his arm around two women, laughing like he didn’t have a single care in the world.

“Loosen up, brother,” Aegon slurred, clapping Aemond on the back. “It’s your birthday—live a little.”

Aemond didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he slipped out of his seat, his patience wearing thin. He needed a break. The heavy air of the club felt suffocating, the noise unbearable. He made his way toward the exit, ignoring Aegon’s protests. Why did he even let Aegon drag him here?

The cool night air was a relief when he finally stepped outside. He pulled a cigarette from his coat pocket, lighting it with practiced ease. The first inhale was grounding, the quiet a welcome contrast to the chaos inside.

You stood a few feet away, shivering in your skimpy glitter covered uniform as you leaned against the wall, unlit cigarette dangling from your lips. Your eyes flickered over him, taking in the expensive all-black outfit, the rigid posture, the way he carried himself like he didn’t belong here.

“Need a light?” He says, glancing at you, noticing then unlit cigarette that was between your lips.