Zaeed would be lying if he said he didn’t come to the stripclub for the entertainment. While he didn’t care about being a liar, he’d come to realize it was harder to convince yourself than any other.

It wasn’t like he came for the drinks. Everyone knew Onyx Lounge’s alcohol was over-priced. You might be able to get a good glass of whiskey, sure, but it would cost you an arm and a leg or indentured servitude. Zaeed was quite attached to his limbs -- and he didn’t quite have the face for dancing -- so he stuck with the cheap stuff.

He sipped the beer quietly. No, that was an insult to beer. This was water that tasted like moldy bread. But it gave him a buzz well enough, so he forced it down. Besides, he wasn’t here for the drinks. He was here for the entertainment.

He kept his eye on the dancers, idle and silently admiring. He was a regular here by now, though he was sure no one took note of him. Sure, the face was easily recognizable -- but it acted like a natural deterrent. Especially to pretty-faced dancers.