Malek looked around the club, feeling very much like he owned the place. He and his crowed had taken over one of the corner sitting areas. It wasn’t too far from the entrance that he wouldn’t be able to duck out when his guest arrived.
On either side, he had three lovely young women. All picked up along his day as needs arose: lunch, dinner, money to get into the joint, tits to stare at…that kinda thing. Malek’s idle mind amused itself by tickling the neck of one girl with the hair from another. Something about the alcohol and the atmosphere of the club made the women even more susceptible to his charm. Or maybe he just looked that damn good. He wasn’t gonna ask questions. It was still a while before Ava got there and he’d had quite enough of being bored on the glossy streets of Celeste City.
“Oh M. Tell us another one!” To be honest, he’d set two of the hotter looking girls to thinking that making out in front of him would result in a proposal – so it took a while for him to register the request. “Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.” He sighed dramatically. With the slight buzz he was feeling, Malek was not quite up to making up another heroic story of him saving the world from…rabies or whatever he’d said. He had to admit – he kind of liked this. His charm’s true use had become useful early on, but who knew he could have such fun with it too? Hell – he had half a mind to stay around this area and live off women. Not that this wasn’t what he’d been doing on the Outskirts…but the women here were a LOT hotter.
“Another drink, m’lady?” Malek whispered into the ear of a barmaid. His eyes glistened with mirth as she promptly handed him a beer from her serving tray, much to the offense of the older gentleman who’d ordered it. The moon-haired boy shrugged congenially; who was going to start anything with so many giggling babes around him?
Though his charm was in full effect, even he felt a need to keep his company entertained. “How about a trick?” Malek asked, sitting forward with his hands on his knees. The girls immediately agreed – settling into a hushed anticipatory silence. From the loop on his belt he drew the dagger that had only recently been launched towards his head. The half spellbound, half drunk women were easily impressed with his twirling of the dagger between and around his fingers. The pulsing lights and music lent a rhythm to his expert movements. He spun the edge of the blade on the tip of his finger (one of the girls crying out in fear of him spilling his precious blood.) Finally he launched the spinning blade in the air and caught it, upright between his teeth. Insert one signature sexy wink and he was being heartily applauded by his growing audience of beautiful females.
A guy could get used to this. Even the stupid one letter nickname doesn’t sound so bad comin’ from a herd of chicks. It hadn’t occurred to him that his lack of discretion would disturb the other patrons of the bar. Night clubs and places of the sort usually had more women than men running around and in Malek’s mind, he’d simply balanced out the ratio by gathering all the unwanted women of the night. It was a public service! Okay. So that was bull. The truth lay somewhere between there and just not giving a crap about whether the other guys in the joint had a pair to fondle or not. It was ballsy of the…whatever it was to complain. Ballsy and obnoxiously pretentious. Only in Celeste City would you find that particular combination on a boy who looked like he’d never worked a hard day’s labor in his life. It didn’t appeal to Malek’s sensibilities.
He really only half listened to the complaint/compliment launched at him. One of the women took the dagger and used it as an excuse to run her hand down his thigh as she slid it back into its loop at the front of his pants. “Aww.” He chuckled, draping both arms around the two sets of feminine shoulders at his sides. His platinum head came to a cocky tilt to look up at the dark skinned stranger.
“Not as much hospitality as you’d expect at home iddit? No o-ma to make it for you.” His dialect was distinctly Outskirt in that moment; draped in vestiges of a language lost long ago mixed with the hillbilly tendencies of laborers from border Deamone cities. “Don’chya think these beautiful ladies have better things to occupy their mind than whether or not you get your coffee?” Years with Ava had smoothed over his speech; she’d never been allowed nor allowed herself to pick up the rougher traits of the languages of the otuskirts. Her guardians had seen to that at least. She in turn had impressed upon him the importance of being able to sound like one hadn’t grown up in a pig stye (or above a warehouse for that matter.) If anything – his easy slip from ruffian into more gentile speech made Malek, “M” that much more attractive to his harem.
“Or was it companionship you were after ’cause I gotta warn ya buddy. I don’t bat for that team. I think there are special kinda clubs for that, ‘cha?” Feminine giggles fluttered thereafter, thanking the fates (out loud) that he was straight for then at least one of them had a shot. His hand found the rear end of the waitress who’d not too long ago almost provided him with a coffee that didn’t belong to him. “Make sure my friend here keeps gettin’ his drink, kay dollface?” Maybe it was a lifetime in the coddling arms of women – but Malek fully expected his slights and insults to be forgiven. Who could stay mad at a face like his anyway?
“Take a load off!” He declared, pulling one of the simpering women onto his lap to better allow her to feed him the strawberries he’d requested and to make room for the other male (one slightly more important than the other but you can decide which for yourself.) “I’m M and you are?” Better to use a stupid nickname than to give everything away to a stranger – he was, after all a thief.