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Chapter 5. Scene 2: With All Insanity

[Adastra, Luxomoris. Club, night]

— Hey, brother-buddy-bro, what incredible thing was supposed to happen that you yourself, with all your decency, personally invited me to this godforsaken place? — whispered Mark directly into Ostin's ear, sneaking up from behind and lightly placing his hands on his shoulders. He was surprised, and his rapid breathing showed it. Of course! For the first time ever, Ostin had personally invited him to the club. And this guy, known as the moral compass of society, would hardly ever invite anyone to such places.

— Whaaat… — Ostin raised his eyebrows without turning around. He barely moved: breathing even, painfully controlled. He knew Mark was behind him, but his skill at keeping a straight face played its part.

— What is it? What's is it? — Mark laughed and abruptly sat on the neighboring chair, almost losing his balance. — I'm asking, what diablo bit you, won't you give me contacts? — he continued, leaning his elbows on the bar, sitting with his back to it. He was looking directly at Ostin, completely unconcerned with any reaction.

— Bygones, — Ostin sighed and waved his hand. He was uneasy with Mark's insistence, but even more uneasy with contradicting his own principles. Braun let out a heavy sigh and tapped on the glass on the bar counter.

— Eh, noo, sir, this business won't work, all the more it won't go anywhere, — Mark winked, obviously trying to flush his friend out.

— What sir? What business? Who's going where? What are you rambling about? — Ostin protested, but for some reason his gaze remained languid, focused only on the glass. He gripped it so tightly that his fingers turned white. The poor glass was empty. But the guy had no intention of filling it, just held onto it like a shield. Was Ostin drinking alone?

— Ha-ha-ha, — Mark laughed and patted Braun on the shoulder. Ostin twitched from it. Mark couldn't believe his eyes. Such a sullen guy, always so steady... and now he resembled an impulsive teenager caught with a cigarette in his teeth.

— Alright, I'm noting this: this morning I met a very special person. It was around 8:30… — Ostin said seriously, as if recording a court transcript, completely focused, his gaze on everything and nowhere at once.

So formal that Mark rolled his eyes after the word 'special' and stopped listening. Not that he wasn't used to Braun's phrasing — it just sounded stranger than usual now. Too artificial. And who even talks about feelings like that? You're not keeping a transcript, after all! Besides, Evans had no interest in fantasies and facts without concrete action. Ostin, on the other hand, was reactive.

So Evans began catching random glances from people and smiling at every girl who matched at least 50% of his taste. Here — soft and confident movements, there — a careful glance and a slight wink. And then the moment of contact reached him almost immediately. It was expected — Cupid would have envied his skills.

Mark was already prepared to approach the smiling lady, who was clearly flirting just as well as he was. The hunter sensed another hunter — a faint spark of interest gleamed in his eyes. However, he would need to be more cautious today. This game might start without his initiative.

And that's exactly how it happened. After a few glances and smiles, walked up to him on her own. But she wasn't trying to appear seductive. Her posture and facial expression conveyed dominance, not a wish to impress. And that turned Evans on like hell as a direct challenge.

Hunter to hunter, confidence to confidence. This was how the real form of flirting worked: no blah~blah~blah, just attention, eye contact, and posture.

[Let's omit that this game will always have consequences.]

As Ostin finished speaking, he noticed some lady approaching Mark. He realized immediately: Mark had been toying with her with his gaze the whole time, like a diablo, skillfully seducing her.

— How handsome... — the girl said to Mark, fixing her hair. Her eyes briefly caught Ostin, who for some reason was hiding behind the menu. — Boy... — she finished, clearly flustered, throwing suspicious glances at Braun.

— How brave... — Mark replied, gently squeezing her hand and drawing her closer. — Girl... — Mark played along with her fluster, looking straight into her eyes, and gently kissed her hand.

He didn't care about Ostin. When the thrill kicked in, the pleasure dopamine obeyed only the game. The girl laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. Either because of Mark's theatrics or the awkwardness of the situation.

— Your friend doesn't mind... — the girl replied, quickly stepping back from Mark and taking a spot behind Ostin, who was still diligently hiding behind the menu, lightly gripping it with his fingers. — If I take you away for a little dance, — she said, looking into Mark's eyes, but leaning slightly toward Ostin as if asking for his silent permission.

— My friend is playing secret agent tonight, proper boy, — Mark said, covering his mouth with his hand and laughing with his eyes. — Don't mind! — he said and stood up flamboyantly, extending his hand to the girl with theatrical grace.

[Like a true seducer (dash), a master of flirtation (dash). KXM … a gentleman with the energy of stylish propriety and a faint hint of tobacco.]

Then they stepped into the center of the dance floor. People moved aside for them, though not all of them were willing to do so — some only stepped back slightly, so as not to provoke conflict.

Now these two melded in the dance so that only a fool could not notice this vibration of fiery passion. And it was in every damn movement of their bodies. Catching each other's rhythm, they felt the most honest lust with their skin. Even the faintest, barely noticeable touches ignited a new wave of frankness. Oh, the play of nerve endings… oh, the warmth of their bodies. It seemed they noticed no one around them — only reading each other's motive.

No, they weren't speaking. They only exchanged signals, like radio stations: through half-measures, hidden gestures, and glances. Each touch sparked the next, each breath revealed more desire, and each gesture hinted at the inevitable continuation.

[Sometimes words aren't needed if someone nearby can read your energy.]

Ostin was also trying to send signals to Mark. Though they were quite sharp, rude, and full of dissatisfaction. Like a kettle that suddenly lets out that nasty clack in the middle of two hours of the night in the dead silence. It was both a clear, unmistakable hint — take it and do it — and also one that made you want to push it away — don't disturb my nirvana. And Mark was the kind of guy who deliberately ignored what he didn't like, including a sudden dap — the role of a fool.

[Perhaps sometimes the signals should be subtler?]

— Would you like to dance? – the girl cautiously approached Ostin from behind, lightly resting a hand on his shoulder.

— Woman — don't dance! — Ostin shouted loudly without turning, slamming the menu on the table with a sharp movement. The glasses skillfully complemented the orchestra.

— Rude... — she murmured in surprise, and, displeased, stepped away toward another man.

— What the — really?! — Ostin exclaimed, looking around. Neither the guest nor Mark with the girl were nearby anymore. As if they had dissolved at the perfect moment for them, leaving Ostin alone with the peace he had always asked for.

Only bartender came over and set a glass of drink in front of him, as if sensing his desperation mixed with tension.

— Thank you, — Ostin replied, his face flushing with embarrassment. He clearly hadn't expected such a thoughtful gesture.

— You're welcome. You drank alone for the first time tonight... Did something happen? — the bartender asked cautiously, observing his reaction.

— I thought so... — Ostin sighed. — But today I realized that it was only my own fiction, — he leaned over without hesitation, ready to down the whole glass in one gulp.

— Wait, — the bartender said calmly, placing his hand on his wrist: — It's a strong drink, better not to risk it.

— It's all right... I have nothing to risk, — Ostin said sharply, finishing the drink in one go. The bartender could barely hold back a laugh, watching Braun grimace at the burn.

— I'm sorry. But just remember: only those who have been there long have nothing to risk, — the bartender added, pointing to the ceiling, as if to the stars.

— I meant… I thought she was special, — Ostin suddenly revealed himself. He would regret it tomorrow.

— And you? — the bartender asked, wiping a glass and watching him intently.

— And me?! I'm a lawyer, — Ostin mumbled, running a hand over his brow and snickering. — What am I even saying… — he shook his head. — Can I just get drunk?"

— People don't usually ask bartenders that, ha-ha, — the bartender laughed. — But if it leads you to what you need… then go at it With All Insanity! — he shouted, a spark of excitement in his voice.

— With All Insanity! — Ostin responded, raising his glass. — To hell with Mark, With All Insanity!

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