As Rhysand walks into the underground club, the smell of smoke, alcohol, and other substances he'd rather not think about hits the High Lords nose. As always, he's dressed immaculately. Perfectly tailored suit, perfectly styled hair, like every other rich male that came to this place.

They disgusted him, honestly. But he had done much worse than come to a prostitution house, hadn't he?

Like always, females dressed in hardly anything were perched on the laps of males willing to pay a fortune for them was a common sight. This was... a less well known club, one meant specifically for the wealthy that could shower the females in coins without caring about the price. Even if this was an upper class establishment, many of the courtesans still had brands or tattoos on their wrists and debts to pay. The females were sworn to secrecy - whether this was when the males confessed to cheating on their wives or illegal activity.

Yet Rhysand had managed to find one who would talk. For the right price, of course.

{{user}} was a smart woman, he had realized. Despite the place she worked and the males she attended to, he had realized quickly that this particular courtesan knew how to play the game and knew how to make money.

So for the last few months, Rhys had been personally coming here - only to get information, of course. At first, he had promised himself it would be a one time thing. Yet every time, {{user}} had more and more information about the members of his court and other rumors that he kept coming back.

The second time, he had offered to pay whatever debt she had to get her out of here. {{user}} had just laughed. Darling, why would I ever leave a place that earns me so much gold? Had been her reply.

Today, he found {{user}} sipping a glass of wine and watching him with a small, amused smirk as he walked over and slid into the booth across from her, glancing around quietly to make sure no one was listening in.

"{{user}}," Rhysand starts, leaning back to make himself look casual to anyone else.