Story Ten: Boys' Night Out

Smoke arcing away from his face, light dancing over his dark eyes, Sebastian tossed the finished cigarette to his side, flicking it between his forefinger and thumb. The young mage ran a hand over his face, feeling the smoothness of his freshly shaved cheek. The flashing lights from above caught the gold hoops in his ears. Long sideburns, thicker than the hair on the top of his head ran past his ears, jutting out and around his jawbone, giving him a rugged look. Yet as dark and fierce as his unsmiling face looked, clad in his navy slacks and black leather jacket, he was the smallest and least intimidating of the three.

To his right, the massive Kahn smiled a wide grin. A tight navy-blue ribbed t-shirt fit his torso; loose khakis flowed underneath. There were a some men with Kahn’s exceptional strength, but few had the massive girth that he did, standing nearly two men wide. Walking along Sebastian’s other side was Ragnar, the fiesty Get of Fenris. His red hair flowed above his head in the gentle wind of the dark night; he wore green slacks with a loose grey top. Absent-mindedly he spit as he shook his head at Sebastian.

“Ye shur are a fickle lot,” Ragnar said.

“I prefer ta tink of us as dynamic,” Sebastian replied, his Cajun accept think.

“By Gaea, lad. Ye’ve changed the name of yuir craft four or five times alreddy.”

“It’s evolutionary,” Sebastian said. “Like when a caterpillah change into a buttafly.”

“I’m not the brightest guy, Sebastian” Kahn said. “But doesn’t a caterpillar only change once?”

Sebastian glared at Kahn.

“Hah! The boy’s got a point, Sebastian,” Ragnar said.

“Forget it, already. Ah got a headache from callin’ everybody an’ explainin’ it to ‘em.”

“At least you only had to call us all once,” Kahn said.

“Yeah,” Sebastian said. “Ah suppose.”

“I like the name,” Kahn said. “Pendragons. I like Chip. If he’s King Arthur, who are you?”

“Ah don’ know.”

“Who am I?” Kahn asked.

“Ah don’ know,” Sebastian said again.

“Who are you Ragnar?”

“Ach, Laddie. We Garou don’t work quite the same as you magi. We’re spirits of a sort that go to a restin’ place when we’re done. If they’ve earned, our souls will achieve a peace of sorts, not keep cycling over an’ over.

Kahn nodded.

 

“Who else did you have to call?” Ragnar asked Sebastian.

“Well, you remember Dylan and Rayne, they both stayed with us for awhile?”

“Yes,” Ragnar said.

“Them, and do you remember Lee?”

“No. I don’t think I met her,” Ragnar said.

“You remember her, right, Kahn?”

“Oh yeah,” Kahn said.

“Her too,” Sebastian said.

“I liked her,” Kahn said, smiling.

“It was hard not to,” Sebastian said, smiling also.

“She liked you,” Kahn said.

“Get outta here,” Sebastian said, looking straight ahead.

“It was pretty hard to miss,” Kahn said, persisting.

“Boyo, you let a good piece of ass get by you, did ye?”

“All tings have dere proper place an’ time,” Sebastian said.

Ragnar smiled, his eyes gleaming. “Like tonight hopefully.”

Sebastian nodded in Ragnar’s direction as they rounded the corner out of the alley, walking down the main street towards Electica’s entrance. Kahn, Ragnar, and Sebastian moved steadily by the long line outside and moved toward the door, where a doorman and two bouncers stood behind a velvet rope. One of the bouncers opened the rope for them. Clubbers of all varieties gave them jealous and annoyed stares. The trio didn’t give it a second thought.

“Sorry to see you sell the club, Mr. Duvalier,” the doorman said.

“Had ta be done, Charles.”

“The new owner has put you on the guest list–permanently.”

“Good man,” Sebastian said, patting the doorman’s shoulder. “Le’s go,” he said to the others. The three had no trouble moving through the packed club, making their way to the bar. “What do you boys want?” he asked. Gathering their replies, he turned to the back to the bar and got the bartender’s attention. After putting a Maker's Mark on the rocks, a Glen Livet neat, and a Budweiser on his tab, he turned from the bar and handed out the drinks to his friends.

“Here’s ta friendship, longevity, an’ success.” Sebastian held his glass up and the others met the toast, before putting the glasses to their lips and drinking.

“So where’s Chip at?” Ragnar asked.

“Ah don’ know," Sebastian said. "He was in some fight wit Kaitlin when Ah saw him last.”

“Aye. I can imagine the trouble that lass is givin’ him.”

“Women,” Sebastian muttered over his drink.

“Yes.” Ragnar looked intently at Sebastian. “When are ye plannin’ on getting back in the game?”

“Ah don’ know,” Sebastian said. “Ah’m a bit rusty.”

“I need another beer,” Kahn said.

Ragnar and Sebastian turned and stared at Kahn.

“Jesus,” Sebastian muttered.

“I’s going to be one of those nights,” Ragnar said.

 

*       *       *

 

Sitting at a table in the corner of the bar, Sebastian, Kahn, and Ragnar dropped the shot glasses to the table, slamming them down as they finished. Sebastian smiled. “You tought cause Ah’m smaller, Ah’d be a light weight, eh? Surprised?”

“By Luna, ye have the gut of a madman,” Ragnar said.

Kahn merely swayed.

Sebastian and Ragnar fell silent at they surveyed the crowd. Sebastian nudged Ragnar and nodded towards a pair of women.

“Dey’s lookin’ right?”

“Nah.”

“Come on Ragnar, Ah'm serious, dose chicks be checkin’ us out, right?”

“No. I’m tellin’ you,” Ragnar said.

Sebastian slapped Kahn’s arm. “Big guy, see those chicks?”

“Very pretty.”

“Let’s give it a try,” Sebastian said.

“Okay. What do we do?” Kahn asked.

“Follow my lead.”

Kahn and Sebastian eased themselves out from the table and made their way over to the two women. Ragnar sipped on his Glen Livet and watched the two begin talking to the women. Not more than half a minute had gone by when the one close to Sebastian reached up and slapped him, and they turned and walked away. Kahn moved first. After an immobile moment of shock, Sebastian turned and returned to his seat.

“What did ye say?” Ragnar asked.

“Noting,” Sebastian said.

“Obviously somethin’.”

“I guess dat line worked a lot better in New Orleans.”

“Yuir gonna need better lines then ‘wanna fuck,’ away from the Big Easy, Sebastian.”

“Shut up,” Sebastian snapped, looking away.

 

*       *       *

 

“And so I said, ‘A duck!’” Both women surrounding Ragnar exploded into laughter, as did Kahn. The Garou had an arm around each female and was completely red-faced with laughter and intoxication. Both women were beautiful. The one on Ragnar’s right continued to glance over her shoulder at Kahn. Sebastian sat at the edge of the table.

“A duck,” Sebastian muttered under his breath. Without the others noticing, he moved up and away. He moved back towards the bar and ordered another Maker's Mark on the rocks. At the end of the bar he saw Antowain. Shuffling past the crowded bar area, he moved towards the big black man he knew to be a Gangrel ghoul.

“Antowain,” Sebastian shouted over the din.

“Hey, what’s up, my man?” Antowain shouted back.

“Not much.”

“Havin’ a good time?” the ghoulish bartender asked.

“So-so,” Sebastian said, shrugging.

“Where’s your usual retinue?”

“In the corner.”

Antowain looked, nodding as he realized the score. “That kind of night, hunh?”

Sebastian nodded. “Any of your brothers here tonight?”

“Yeah, My big brother’s here, actually.”

“Mohammed?”

“Uh-huh.”

Sebastian looked down.

“Gotta serve, SD. Poppy’s in the opposite back corner,” Antowain said, pointing.

With a quick look from his side to side, Sebastian turned and aimed his sight straight at the rear of the club, gliding effortlessly into the spirit realm: instantly able to sense the souls, or lack there-of, in the surrounding people. Finding what he was looking for, and seeing the hole he needed, Sebastian stepped forward and into real space and time in front of a man dressed similarly to himself, only with blue jeans, who also had about the same ambiguously dark-skinned complexion.

“Hey, Mohammed.”

“Well, well, if it’s not Mr. Duvalier.”

“Dat’s right.”

“Have a seat.”

Mohammed always had a menacing look in his eyes, a feral match of wits and determination. Those same eyes ravaged Sebastian. The lonely mage sat steadily. Mohammed tipped his dark red liquid-filled glass towards Sebastian. “To ending a lonely night.”

Sebastian met the toast.

“Heard some rumor you took out some nether realm of whacked-out mages.”

“Sometin’ like dat.”

“Just you and Zelinsky,” Mohammed said.

“Yeah.”

“Celebrating?”

“Ah guess,” Sebastian said, shrugging.

“Where is the big man?” Mohammed asked.

“Fighting with his woman,” Sebastian said.

“Humans.”

Sebastian had to laugh. “Humans.”

Mohammed angled his head towards Sebastian’s comrades. “The redhead’s a pit bull, right?”

“Yup.”

“The other?”

“A former student a mine,” Sebastian said.

“What, did you retire from the teaching business? Too busy slaying nasties?”

“You could say he graduated.”

“Could I?” Mohammed asked, an eyebrow arced.

“I have other responsibilities. Sides, it’s time dey all make dere own path.”

“Are you still in the mansion?” Mohammed asked.

“Nope.”

“Why not? Lovely spot. Worthy of a Ventrue.”

“Fuck you,” Sebastian spat.

“Got back down to earth, off your high horse?”

“Are you through yet?” Sebastian asked.

“Just about.”

Mohammed’s dark eyes sparkled again, dancing their empty gaze across Sebastian’s weary face. As Mohammed turned his gaze to meet the mage’s, he noticed a hazy shimmer, a glassy look far away. He was just about to ask what was up, when Sebastian slid his empty glass to the edge of the table, and pushed it off.

At the same time, the woman walking by tripped and fell. Seemingly faster than possible, Sebastian reached out and grabbed her drink, replacing it in front of him on the table; the girl fell and the glass broke. Sebastian slid out of the booth and helped her up.

“You might wanna be more careful in da future, ma chere.”

“I- I’m sorry. I guess I just tripped over my own feet. Did I get any glass on you?”

“Nah,” he said, kicking the bigger shards under the table. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, wiping blood off of her hand.

“Let me see dat,” Sebastian said. As he did, Mohammed shifted his weight, gazing dreadfully at her cut hand. Sebastian shot him a look. The mage wiped away the blood; underneath it was only a minor cut. “You be fine. Why don’ you go back to da bar an’ tell dem what happen. Tell dem it’s on Sebastian’s tab. Point ta me if ya have to.”

“Thank you,” the girl said smiling. “Thanks,” she said again, pulling a strand of hair out of her face.

“Such a charming young man,” Mohammed said, clapping his hands softly.

Sebastian held up his glass in mock-toast, “Jus’ tirsty, dat’s all.”

“And humble.”

Sebastian held up the glass, staring at it under the dim light. "Too much water.”

As Sebastian sat, Mohammed rose, gracefully sliding above the other man, taking the mage’s hand in his own. “Come, Sebastian. Come down to the labyrinth, and enjoy your gift to us. Partake in the savory flavors that the underworld has to provide.” Though his fingers were soft, his sharp nails were not, and neither was his grip; nor was the undeniable pull towards something unfulfilled, dormant. Sebastian rose and followed the undead creature, drifting like a ghoul, drunk in its majesty, amazed as his stupor. Still holding his hand, Sebastian loomed forward dying for something that was him, something that had been gone for too long.

Down the stairs, into the purple aura of the black light, the duo collapsed into the throngs of people: hoarded and crowded into the short alleys of twists and turns, rights and wrongs, drugs and blood, violence and passion. Men and women clouded themselves around religions of oblivion, kisses of eternity, and beleaguered saturations of passion. Dropping his hand, Mohammed walked up to a woman of pale skin, a virtue of beauty, yet there was an aimless look in her eyes that lit with the fires of recognition as she embraced Mohammed. Mohammed in turn held her, spinning Sebastian in the all too familiar web of lies and half-truths, deceptions and love; talking to him and her and running introductions before consuming her with false passion hid under addiction.

As Mohammed ran his hands over her body, smothering her in kisses, he glanced over at Sebastian, who was leaning against a wall, drink in hand. Mohammed ran his fingers into the girl’s pants, kissing her neck, and at the right time Sebastian knew what he would do. And Mohammed knew that Sebastian knew. All the time he touched her, the Kindred stared at the mage. Sebastian looked away. For all the drugs and adrenaline rushes he had ever soared through, carrying himself higher and higher, both he and Mohammed knew that none was higher than the Kiss; Sebastian did not know how Mohammed knew he had suffered its dark embrace, but there was no doubt that he knew; there would be no other reason for such ambiguous torment.

Sebastian could take Mohammed’s gaze no more.

The mage turned around moved through the maze, walking aimlessly, poking through conversations and attractions, dying as nothing flitted into his interest, nothing taking hold of him enough to supply the least passion. Perhaps it was the all too recent loss of Lotus. Perhaps he was not as ready as he thought.

He turned a corner, seeking only refuge from the masses, not even remembering how to get back out. Yet what seemed to be an empty corner, was one occupied by a female, who was bent over the counter. Sebastian turned and looked at her from the side. “Are you okay,” he began to ask, but the loud snort from underneath her told him the story.

She looked up at him, freezing for a moment. She looked at him, her eyes darting towards the counter, then back again. Sebastian said nothing. She nodded down towards the counter. Sebastian shrugged and took the rolled up bill that she handed him and leaned over, snorting the line of coke. She went down for another before offering it to Sebastian again. He did so.

The two stood there, looking at each other. “I know you,” he muttered at last.

“I doubt it,” she said with an edge, looking away.

Sebastian took her chin and lifted it. “You’re one of the senior officers at the Detroit Savings and Loan Bank.”

“You must have me confused with someone else,” she said.

“Hunh.” Sebastian grunted, his eyes glancing down that the cocaine, then back to her.

“What, do you think because I do lines, I’m some kind of coke-whore that’s too dumb to know or understand what’s going up her nose?”

Sebastian held up his hands defensively, "whoa," he said. "Easy."

 

She only turned back and forth, as if trying to make up her mind.

 

"Besides," Sebastian said. "I know what's going up your nose." Sebastian unrolled the bill to find a hundred. “This,” he said waving it.

“Don’t fucking condescend me, you did it too.”

Sebastian nodded, pursing his lips.

An anger burned in her eyes that seemed to flash outward and consume Sebastian in the dim lighting, burning and searing, and only offering refuge in the flickering of its intensity: the wane as the fire flagged to a managable rage, compromised requisitionally by her knowledge of his identity.

“Wait a minute. I know you too,” she said.

“Oh, really?” Sebastian laughed.

“Yes. You’re Sebastian Duvalier, the phantom businessman.”

“Hunh.” Sebastian sipped from his drink. “Come with me,” he said, nodding the opposite direction.

“Where are we going?”

“To get some more bourbon.” Sebastian opened his correspondence senses, finding the back exit to the labyrinth, which would lead to a private room.

“Do you like it down here?” he asked.

“Wait a minute. I want to know more about you,” she said.

“Ah’m not really all dat interestin’,” Sebastian said.

“From what I gather, your friend won the lottery, you both took money to Vegas, won a killing on the Holyfield/Tyson fight. People thought you were cheaters. You turned out legit and a few months later you turn up owning half of the up and coming businesses in Detroit. You took out loans with us.”

“And deposited huge sums, which you guys didn’t watch too carefully,” Sebastian said.

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind.”

“But then,” she continued. “When you seemed to be getting huge—I mean, you had an entire Foundation set up to look after your interests—then just like that, you vanish: selling all of your businesses to someone no one’s ever heard of, including even your mansion.”

“Do dey put out newsletters ‘bout what Ah do?”

“You were hard not to notice.”

“Well, Ah really prefer more anonymity.”

“It’s amazing. I can’t think of one paper or magazine that has active pictures of you on film. I’m surprised I recognized you.”

“Jus' lucky, Ah guess.” The two kept moving through the throngs; Sebastian pushed people out of his way if he needed to, but it seemed as if for the most part, people just weren’t in his way. Eventually they came to what appeared to be a dead end.

“Where’s the boubon?” she asked.

“Nearby. Tirsty?”

“Very,” she said.

“Do you like da crowds?” Sebastian asked, as he fished through his jeans’ pockets.

“Sort of.”

“Ah wouldn’t figure da serious banker types ta be here, clubbin’,” he said.

“I’m only thirty-three.”

“Well Ah ’d say you look more like twenty-nine, but if you’re willin’ to cop ta tirty-tree, den you must be at least tirty-five.”

“I am not.”

Sebastian flashed a tigh-lipped smile as he pulled a keychain out of his pocket and started looking for the right key.

“What are those for?” she asked.

“Dis.” Sebastian turned and inserted the key into a keyhole in the wall. When he turned it, it enabled him to pick up a panel which exposed a doorhandle. He used another key to unlock it. “Welcome,” he said opening the door.

The woman stopped. “I really should be getting back to my other friends.”

Sebastian ushered her in. “Have a drink wit me. It’s the least Ah can do for so generous a young lady.”

She blushed.

Sebastian followed her in and shut the door behind them. The woman looked around the luxurious room. There was a full bar on the opposite wall, two black leather couches, and a table with four chairs at it.

“Did daddy get you your job?” Sebastian asked.

“What?”

“You’re pretty young ta be workin’ da job you do witout a little nepotism.”

“I’m not one of those spoiled brat– “

“Easy,” Sebastian said, going right for the stocked bar. He filled two glasses with ice and Maker's Mark. “Ah’m not trowin’ any stones.”

“Sorry,” she said.

“Dat’s okay.”

“Yes,” she said.

“Yes what?” Sebastian asked.

“Yes, that’s how I got the job. But I keep it because I deserve it,” she said. “My father just helped me get my foot in the door.”

“Hmmm,” Sebastian mused. “I believe it.”

The two stared at each other. She looked at the glasses of Maker's.

“Oh, sorry,” Sebastian said, handing her a glass. “Well why don’t you refresh my memory. What is your name again?”

“Sarah Dannon.”

“Sarah,” Sebastian said.

“Yes.”

“Have a seat,” Sebastian gestured to the leather couch.

“Thank you.”

They both sat down.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where are you from? I noticed you have an accent,” Sarah said.

“New Orlins.”

“Oh. I’ve heard it’s a very fun city.”

“Very,” Sebastian said.

“What did you do there?”

“I was an orphan.”

Sarah let out a nervous laugh.

“Was on the rocks okay?” Sebastian asked.

“Yes,” Sarah answered, taking another sip.

“Good.”

“I really should get back to my friends.” She started to rise, but Sebastian put a hand on her leg, keeping her down.

“Why did you leave dem?” His hand remained on her leg.

“You know. They wouldn’t approve.”

“Of your drinkin’?”

“No,” she laughed. “You know. The cocaine?”

“Imagine dat.”

“You’re a pretty liberal guy,” Sarah said.

“What do you expect from a man who gets rich gamblin’?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what to expect?” Sebastian asked, his eyes catching hers.

“No,” she said, nervously looking into Sebastian’s eyes.

Sebastian leaned sideways, glancing through her hair and back into her face. “Is dat bad?”

“Not always.”

“Isn’t it a little bit more fun?”

“Sometimes,” She said. “I– “

Sebastian held her eyes. He stared at her, purposely letting her see his eyes roam over her body: letting her see his comfortable silence. The music was muted in the room and the lighting was different, but equally dim. The quiet was dominating and Sarah found herself moving with paralyzation, diving nowhere as fast as she could, struggling against who she was. Sebastian chased her inner turmoil with a glare and his soft hand on her leg, the other hand stroking her hair.

“My girlfriend will be expecting me,” Sarah said abruptly.

“Is she alone?” Sebastian asked.

“No. She’s with her boyfriend.” She looked down. “And with mine.”

“Will dey be worried?”

“Maybe.”

“Are you?”

“Maybe.”

“Are you scared?”

“No.”

“You know you don’t have ta be?” Sebastian said. “Right?”

She set her drink down next to his. “I need to go,” she said, pushing away his hand and standing.

He followed her up, catching her shoulders from behind, one in each hand, and slowly massaged them. “Don’t go Sarah. I’d like you to stay a little longer.”

She didn’t turn to face him. “I’m flattered, I really am. You are a very attractive and intriguing man, but I am committed to another person. I just don’t do this kind of thing. Besides, I’m not the kind of girl that would do this. I have morals. Don’t think the coke will make me that easy. I mean. What I’m saying is . . . “

Sebastian continued to massage her shoulders. “I’m listenin’.”

“Let me go.”

“I’m not holdin’ you here.”

“Put your hands down.”

Sebastian did.

She turned. Her lip quivered. Sebastian stroked her cheek with his forefinger. Her body shook. “I don’ think you wanna go.”

“No,” she breathed, staring at his lips. "I don't."

He moved in slowly, taking her hands in his, drawing her close to him, letting her body feel his: close, hard, and warm. Her breath came ragged and her hands shook slightly. He kissed her cheek. He continued to leave soft kisses across her cheek until her head arced upward, looking to met his lips with hers. The kiss exploded, their mouths moving with each other, probing in and out, stroking tongue with tongue; wet and intense, the push continued, as his hands moved to her back, massaging it with an aggressiveness, as she put her arms around his neck.

She took off his jacket and dropped it on the floor. The kiss continued as Sebastian undid the buttons clumsily, but forcefully, on the front of her shirt. She ran her hands inside of his shirt, feeling his muscles as he began to touch her breasts. Both of them were breathing heavy, her gasping, as he gently eased her onto the couch. He tore at her pants, pulling them off along with her shoes and socks, as he dropped his own jeans, which he kicked off with his boots. He dropped onto her near naked body, clad only in underwear, he in black briefs. Their bodies rubbed, grinding into each other, building the passion with each moment.

Sebastian undid the front clasp on her bra and cupped her breasts, kissing them roughly, softly biting her nipples, as she used her hands and feet both to pull his briefs off. He moved his mouth down her chest, drawing louder groans the lower he went, until he reached her panties, pulling them off and sliding a finger in as he did so. He pulled it in and out teasingly, feeling how wet she was. He put two fingers in her, hearing her groan even more. She fumbled desperately for him, wanting to feel him, to stroke him, to make him feel like she did.

Sebastian pulled his fingers out of her and leaned back, overwhelmed by the pleasure he had not felt in too long. While she continued to stroke him hungrily, he darted his hand desperately for his wallet, where the condom was. Fumbling through the pockets, he found it, frantically dropping all the cards in the sleeves to get at it. Finding it, he tore the wrapper off and slid it on. He paused for a moment, staring into her eyes, which were aflame again. The pause gave time for the fire to extinguish, but it didn’t. When he saw himself consumed again, her hands reaching out to pull him towards her, he slipped inside of her, forcing himself to exhale and her to groan as she absorbed his girth.

Slowly, Sebastian started to move inside of her, sliding and slithering on top of her, in her, with her, grinding, grabbing, holding, and tearing: kissing her, biting her ear, licking her nipples. Consumption, starvation, terror and pleasure, wrapped into too little too short, too long. The heat of the room made them both sweat under the torrent of breath, raining their breath on each other, burned by something restrained for too long: nothing natural to man or layered under repression, but their own individual truths which had been too long denied by circumstance rather than social apparati.

As he moved faster and harder, pushing himself deeper and deeper into her, she moved to meet his power and speed, completing a cycle of movement, driving both of their senses insane, fortune sustaining Sebastian’s fortitude and the time of minutes, lasting for much, much more: crying burning yearning for the last second where they both died, screaming at the same time through not so much skill, but circumstance: groaning and moaning, thrashing to a stop, collapsing into each other.

Breath still jagged, their bodies still but for the heaving of their chests: flesh touching flesh, him melting slowly inside of her. He looked into her eyes and she into his, not knowing what they saw or had seen, or how it had really happened.

“I can’t believe this just happened,” Sarah whispered.

“I’m a little surprised too,” Sebastian said.

“It’s all so unbelievable,” she laughed.

“You’re unbelievable,” Sebastian said, stroking her cheek.

“Hunh. If anyone’s unbelievable, it’s you. I’ve never–oh my God.”

“What?” Sebastian said, trying to figure out what she was looking at.

“Did that clock stop?” she asked.

Sebastian looked over his shoulder. Catching the second hand move, he answered that it had not.

“But-but, I swear that it was no more than five minutes ago when I was ready to leave.”

“It’s been awhile. Sorry.”

“No,” Sarah said. “I mean, it seemed to last forever.”

“Magick,” Sebastian said, a twinkle in his eye.

“I guess so,” she said, staring into his eyes.

“What ‘bout your friends?” Sebastian asked.

“Oh my. Oh no.”

She gently pushed him away and he eased out of her. She frantically dressed herself, trying her best to make herself presentable.

“Your cheeks are awful flushed,” Sebastian noted, pointing.

“Oh God, he’ll know,” Sarah said.

“Jus’ tell him i’s ‘cause you drunk.”

“Of course.” She looked up at him. “I don’t know what to say.”

Sebastian stood up, throwing the condom in a garbage can. “Don’t say anyting,” he said. “You were wonderful. We had fun. Remember it.”

She stared at his eyes, inches away. “I will.” She kissed him briefly before turning to leave. Catching herself, she turned back around and gave Sebastian a longer kiss. “Mmmm.” She pulled away. “Thank you. Bye,” she said, waving as she left the room.

Sebastian let out a long sigh, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ.” He ran his hand over his head. Sitting back down on the couch, he picked up her unfinished drink. He reached for a phone and dialed upstairs. “Antowain, dis is Sebastian. Send my boys downstairs, will you? Thanks.” Sebastian reached down to his jacket for a joint.

Kahn and Ragnar stumbled into the back room, both beaming. “We got those lassies’ numbers, boyo. I think they’ll promise to be a good time later, eh?”

“Much better than sulking, getting drunk alone,” Kahn slurred

“I guess so,” Sebastian said.

The two sat down on opposite sides of Sebastian. “Ye didn’t have a lot of fun did ye, Sebastian? Ye look so grim.”

“Sorry,” Sebastian said. “Ah was too busy getting’ laid.”

“What?” Kahn said.

“Check the garbage can next to you,” Sebastian said.

Kahn peered in and nodded slowly. “That’s definitely a used condom.”

Ragnar slapped Sebastian hard on the back. “My boy! Way to go! I knew ye had it in ye still.”

“Y'all never have to worry ‘bout me. Ah always have a good time.”

Ragnar and Kahn raised their glasses in front of Sebastian, who met their toast.

“Then we all had a good time,” Kahn said.