[Location: Varynfall City – 10:37 p.m.]
[Angel's Den]
Nero leaned back against the booth's leather seat, his arms folded loosely, a sigh leaving his lips as his eyes trailed over to the dance floor.
"Idiots," he muttered under his breath.
Out there, Alexander, Jason, and Xander were doing what could generously be called "dancing," but in truth it looked like three drunks trying to wrestle with invisible partners. Their movements were wild, uncoordinated, and very much fueled by the alcohol that sloshed in their half-empty glasses. Nero couldn't even tell what song was playing anymore — just that it was loud, the bass thudding deep enough to rattle his ribs.
He wasn't drunk, thankfully. He didn't even like drinking. He preferred to stay sane enough to remember why he regretted being there in the first place. Unfortunately, sobriety didn't save him from the two vultures seated beside him.
"What a rude thing to say about your friends," Annabeth mused, voice smooth, a small curl of a smirk pulling at her lips. Her martini glass glittered under the club lights as she brought it to her mouth for a slow sip. She watched him over the rim intently.
Behind him, Victoria's bright voice chimed in. "You know," she said, fingers buried in his hair, "your hair's so lush and soft. Seriously, it's like silk." She leaned closer, inhaling dramatically. "You even smell nice."
"Gee, thanks," Nero muttered flatly, staring straight ahead with the patience of a man moments from snapping. He didn't even bother to move her hands anymore — he'd long accepted that resistance only encouraged her.
His eyes turned sideways toward Annabeth, who was still smirking at him, half-lidded eyes glinting with a kind of interest that didn't feel playful. ("Something's off about this one.")
It wasn't intuition, exactly — more a prickling sensation, like his instincts were trying to drag him away from her and he just couldn't explain why.
Annabeth leaned in, her perfume floral with something else. "Like what you see, cutie?" she murmured, her tone so casual it was almost a whisper meant for his ear alone.
"Don't flatter yourself." Nero leaned back an inch, trying to reclaim some air.
Victoria huffed from behind him. "Annabeth, stop being such a pervert," she complained, tugging lightly at a lock of Nero's hair as though trying to shield him.
Nero blinked, mildly surprised.
("Huh. Maybe she's not a complete dumb bimbo after all.")
Annabeth only shrugged, lips curling into a lazy smile. "You're the one who threw yourself at him earlier," she said smoothly. "And when Alexander told us about him, weren't you the one wondering how submissive he might be?"
"What the fuck?" Nero blurted, sitting up a little straighter, his brows drawing together.
"I–I never said anything like that!" Victoria stammered, cheeks flushing bright red. "Don't just make stuff up!"
"Oh, don't be fooled," Annabeth teased, swirling her drink idly. "She's got a mouth like an angel but a mind full of sin. You'd be surprised what she's imagined. She imagines all the dirty things."
"I DO NOT!" Victoria yelped. At least she'd stopped playing with his hair.
Nero groaned. "Right, whatever. Can you two take your problems elsewhere? You're loud."
Annabeth tilted her head, smile widening as she leaned just a bit closer. "Hmm… I don't think so." Her voice softened, almost purring. "Letting a pretty thing like you go? Not a chance. I think I'd rather stay and see what makes you squirm."
"One, that's creepy," Nero said, tone flat as ever. "And two, I'm not that easy."
"Oh, I love a challenge," she murmured, her eyes glinting. Nero's jaw tensed — he was this close to kicking her under the table.
"Oh, right!" Victoria cut in suddenly, breaking the tension as she slid back into the seat beside him. "Alexander said he was going to Novarch University, right? You're studying there too, Nero?" Her eyes sparkled with excitement. Her tone, innocent and eager, told him everything — she was probably going there herself.
Nero sighed, already regretting his answer. "Ugh. No."
"I think that's a yes," Annabeth said with a knowing smirk.
"Nice!" Victoria cheered, clasping her hands together. "So that means we'll get to see your cute face every day! Score!"
Nero pinched the bridge of his nose.
("It's never too late to eat a bullet.") He exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Whatever. How do you two ska— I mean, chicks even know Jason?"
"Oh, that's easy," Victoria said, perking up. "My dad used to work as an attorney for his dad a while back. We met through them and, well…" she shrugged, smiling with a hint of mischief, "we dated for a bit. Didn't work out. We had good sex though!"
"I did not need to know that," Nero sighed, slumping back against the couch.
Annabeth chuckled. "Does that kind of talk make you squeamish?"
He shot her a look. "Do I look like a toddler to you?"
"No," she said simply. "But I am curious about something." She leaned in, elbow propped on the back of the seat, chin resting against her palm. "You a virgin?"
There was a dozen ways Nero could've answered — a sharp retort, a joke about her mom, something cruel. But instead, he just looked at her, unimpressed.
"That's none of your business," he said evenly.
Her smile deepened. "I'll take that as a yes," she said, draining the rest of her martini before setting the glass down with a soft clink.
Victoria tilted her head, blinking. "Wait—how old are you, Nero?"
"None of you—"
"I believe Alexander said eighteen," Annabeth interrupted smoothly. "So he's legal."
"Whoa," Victoria blinked, eyes widening. "And you're still a virgin?" Her tone carried genuine surprise, not judgment — though that didn't make it better.
Nero stood abruptly, his patience finally gone. "I'm gonna go take a shit," he said, voice calm but laced with irritation. "That'll be way more interesting than talking to a bunch of bimbos."
He turned sharply, slipping out of the booth and walking away without another word, though he could feel their eyes following him, trailing him like heat across his back.
The bass from the club thumped through the walls as Nero pushed through a door, his patience worn thin. He shoved past a few laughing dancers, brushing off the touch of someone's hand as he muttered under his breath. The hallway outside was quieter — still humming with muffled music though.
He exhaled sharply, running slender fingers through his wild white hair as he made his way toward the bathroom. The moment he stepped inside, the clean, sharp scent of disinfectant and cologne greeted him.
"Well, I'll be damned…" he muttered, staring around in disbelief. "The bathrooms… are actually clean."
It was the first hint of surprise he'd shown all night — eyes widening slightly, almost comically, before that familiar irritation slid back over his face. He approached the mirror, stopping at the sink. His reflection met him head-on — pale skin, sharp red eyes and lips too soft for the kind of mood he was in.
"God, them being so touchy-feely is so damn annoying."
He turned on the tap. The cold water hissed and ran over his fingers, though there was nothing to wash away. Still, it felt like something inside him needed cleansing — a strange sense of being dirtied by proximity to noise, alcohol, and unwanted attention.
His fingers tightened around the porcelain sink. For a long moment, he just stared at himself, expression unreadable.
("This is the last time I let Alexander drag me into this garbage. I'm charging him fifty bucks for the trauma.")
He dried his hands slowly, almost ritualistically, before tossing the crumpled paper towel aside. Just as he reached for the door, it opened — and to his disbelief, it wasn't another guy who walked in.
"Oi—this is the men's room, you bimbo," Nero blurted, frowning. "You stupid or something?"
Annabeth's smirk could have cut through anything. Her dark eyes gleamed in the soft bathroom lighting, she seemed more amused than apologetic. "I merely missed you," she said, voice low and honey-smooth. "Seems I can't get enough of you, cutie."
"Ugh. You barely know me," Nero shot back, stepping to the side, but she mirrored his movement, closing the distance.
"Then maybe we should get better acquainted."
Before he could react, her hand pressed to the wall beside his head. The sudden closeness stole a breath from him — her perfume mixed with the alcohol on her breath was sweet but invasive. His back brushed the cold tile.
"Oh, come on." Her tone shifted teasingly, but with something oddly genuine beneath it. "Don't act so cold. You could at least pretend you're flattered."
"I'm used to this crap." His words came out sharper than he meant. "And just so you know, I don't play along with strangers who think persistence is flirting."
Annabeth tilted her head slightly, studying him — the faint tremor in his breath, the way his eyes refused to look away. Her smirk softened, though not kindly.
"No rush," she murmured. "We could start slow."
He scoffed. "You got the wrong guy. I know your type — all quick fun, you don't want any meaningful connection. Maybe you should find someone who doesn't value personal space."
For a second, she just stared — and then she laughed softly, the sound low and oddly genuine. "God, that's actually fucking adorable."
He blinked, caught off-guard. "What?"
Her grin deepened, sharp with mischief. "Fine. I'll behave," she said, though her tone betrayed otherwise. "But I have to leave you with something to remember me by."
"What the hell are you—"
Before he could finish, she leaned in — her breath warm against his neck. The sudden contact sent a shiver through him, every muscle tightening. Her lips grazed his skin first — then her tongue traced upward, slowly. A sound escaped her — a low hum, something between a sigh and a purr.
"Wha—Hey—!" Nero started, his voice catching, but before he could push her away, she bit down lightly. Not hard enough to hurt — just enough to make every nerve in his body light up at once. His fingers tightened on the wall behind him as a strange heat flooded through his chest, spreading like wildfire.
Annabeth pulled back, a faint strand of saliva connecting her lips to his neck. Her eyes shimmered, the emotion unreadable behind them. "Ahh…" she breathed out, almost relieved. "So you are compatible."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Nero hissed, hand darting up to his neck. The mark throbbed under his touch, the warmth still spreading through his veins. "Did you just drug me?"
She smiled and brushed a stray lock of his white hair from his face. "Of course not. Think of it as… a gift."
Before he could retort, his vision wavered. The world tilted, sound fading to a low noise. His last sight before darkness took him was Annabeth's smirk.
"Sleep tight, beautiful."
The floor came up to meet him. Then, nothing.