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Ling looked around to try and catch another glimpse of the guy but couldn't find him.

"You all right Zhi Ling?" asked Daniel, returning from the floor, and handing out another round of drinks.

"Uh...yeah," bringing his attention back to the two with him. He'd felt a bit strange since coming here, like he was being watched, but it was probably just the fact that Xavier had texted him again, because Ling was dumb and had turned his phone back on. Ling glimpsed at the pop-up before putting his phone on lock. He'd had a little too much to drink to deal with his twenty-eight-year-old maybe ex-boyfriend sending a please let me explain text.

"Hey, uh, Zhi Ling," began a hesitant Daniel. "Look, I know this might not be the best time, but I'd like to apologise about last time. I never meant to make you feel uncomfort—"

"Daniel," interjected Ling, still sitting in the curved booth whilst the other man stood awkwardly adjacent. "You were drunk, you thought I was single, and you weren't even being a creep about it. Stop worrying. You're gonna start making me feel like an asshole if you keep looking so guilty every time we're out with the same group. And Ling's fine, you know."

Daniel nodded with a quiet "oh, okay," which Ling couldn't so much hear over the retro trap music, but lip read. Daniel was around Logan's height, though the studious, shy demeanour, wispy brown hair that always seemed to almost be in his eyes, and glasses negated that height.

He was glad though, that Daniel left it at that, as Ling was starting to feel weird again. Not sick, but the alcohol mixed with the paranoia that someone was still watching him put him a little on edge. Ling looked around again. No one. Idiot, what was he expecting?

You're a fashion designer who sells your clothes in an online store, who's going to be spying on you?

Ling excused himself from the group to go to the bathroom, and even though Lana offered to go with him, she probably wouldn't get very far into the male bathroom. And Wyatt and Logan probably needed the backup more than Ling; their hot streak was no doubt starting to piss the losers off.

The bathrooms were equally monochrome retro. After using the urinal and washing his hands, Ling managed to make it to the door before it opened and a drunk man stumbled in. Ling might have been a little tipsy, though he had a bit more dignity than to go off by himself in that state of inebriation.

"Hey," slurred the taller man, probably around Ling's age. "You're like, the prettiest twink I've ever seen. Wanna come back to my place babe?"

Ling eyed the drunken partier. Did he seriously just try to use that as a pick-up line? "Wow, that's...really tempting, but no thanks. Maybe ask people that when you're a bit more sober?"

After that kind suggestion, he went to move past Drunk Guy – who, mind you, was still sober enough to stand on his own and form coherent sentences – but the other man didn't budge from the door.

"Aw, come on, don't be like that. No one dresses that fuckable and then doesn't put out." He then trailed sleazy eyes down Ling's body.

The soon-to-be twenty-six-year-old knew he probably looked like a younger twink to assholes like this guy, though he was not a helpless bitch, and Drunk Boy was really close to getting a fist to the nose and a knee to the groin. 

Drunk Boy reached a hand out to touch the feathery strands of his hair, and Ling leaned back out of reach, though before he had to resort to more violent methods, someone grabbed the asshole's arm, who had decided to aggressively step closer to Ling.

"What the hell? Don't fucking touch me," swore Drunk Boy, turning to face whoever had his arm suspended above his head.

Ling looked too, a little surprised at the newcomer's appearance.

"I believe the young man before you has more of a right to those words, don't you think?"

Now with a nasty sneer, Drunk Boy tried to swing around and shove the newcomer back, though the newcomer simply tossed Drunk Boy back into the hands of a security member who had come up to the open door.

"Please escort this confused and inebriated man outside and call him a taxi," nonchalantly said the expensively dressed man, not taking his measured gaze off Ling.

"Would you like me to get a copy of his ID first, Mr. Abel, to put on the wall?"

"Good idea, thank you Azim."

The security member left with the struggling and swearing drunk, the door closing behind and leaving Ling and this...Mr. Abel alone.

"Uh, thanks," said Ling like a graceless idiot, because the silence mixed with this man's dark gaze feeling like it was piercing his soul, was a tad awkward. "Are you the owner of this club?"

"Yes. My name is James. Though I'm sorry to meet a patron of my establishment under such circumstances. Are you all right..."

"Ling. And yeah, I would've made him a falsetto before he touched me anyway."

That drew a small smile from the handsome man. "Whilst I have no doubt you could have handled yourself, Ling, the point is you shouldn't have to resort to those methods in this establishment. Again, I'm sorry it almost came to such."

Ling was about to thank the taller man again just to be polite and leave, though he couldn't help but ask, "I'm not trying to sound rude, but what are you doing here? The club is obvious enough, but here specifically?"

Adjusting the already perfect lapels on his gold-threaded dark suit, the newcomer—Mr. Abel chuckled quietly. "I suppose this is a questionable location to just happen to meet at this time. Other patrons had complained about that man shoving them aside as he made his way here. I thought I'd come to see what all the fuss was about." His gaze swept over Ling again.

"Though if I had known the fuss was about you, I would've ensured that drunken neanderthal never set foot in my establishment."

That was a strangely personal and aggressive thing to say to someone you'd just met. Though his smooth tone was still even, and his piercing gaze still congenial-looking, so Ling left it. Instead, he fiddled with his slim-fit netted sweater. "Uh, like you said though, I, or you didn't have to resort to any, more serious methods. Thanks...again, Mr. Abel."

Ling went to pass the club owner, who didn't stop him, though only moved to the side enough that Ling almost brushed against him. Getting weird vibes; not bad, exactly, but...Ling was more than happy to leave the smaller space and current company, who of course had to have dimples when he smiled with a little mischief again.

"James," he countered. "And you're very welcome. It was nice to meet you, Ling."

Ling returned to his group, where all five were gathered at the circle lounges again. Before long, he had managed to get back into things, putting his weird, and weirder encounter out of his mind, as well as still trying to keep thoughts of the other thing he'd witnessed earlier today.

Wyatt and Logan had apparently managed to do away with their winnings before tensions got out of hand, Logan pulling his lets-bro-it-all-out-and-chill mode. The duo were good, but they had still probably cheated, though their dupes were always left unaware.

Spending the late night to early morning shifting between the bar, the floor and the lounges, Ling decided enough was enough when he needed to use Lana for support when he stood from the lounges this time. He wasn't sure how many hours they'd been here, but the rest of the group seemed to be of the same mindset.

"Yo, LZ," slurred a happy, inebriated six-foot-plus footballer. "You know how Michael Jackson said it doesn't matter if you're black or white?"

Ling, who was not in much better a condition than Logan, struggled to support the uncoordinated weight that suddenly leaned against him as they walked to the exit.

"He didn't say anything about Asians," continued Logan, suddenly going through an existential crisis. "Bro, I'm Asian." He looked over at Ling, a realisation seemingly occurring. "You're Asian too."

Ling made a shocked face, as if to say: "What, really?" Not that Logan's presence bothered Ling in the slightest, though he was thankful when Rigby took the big-ass tree off his hands.

The six took the elevator up, leaving the retro trap beats behind and stepped out at the second sub-level parking. Wyatt had only had a couple of weaker drinks, and so was fine to drive, but when they made it to the Jeep, Ling realised that slight clatter he heard near the elevator must have been his phone.

"I think I dropped my phone when we left the elevator," he told the others. "I'll be right back." Ling crossed the dimly lit parking lot and rounded the corner of the black-painted concrete pillar, almost knocking his head on the emergency exit doors that were open for some reason. The elevator was only several metres ahead, though Ling didn't remember these doors being open. They were only ajar, so he guessed it would've been easy to miss coming the other way, and in their tipsy states. Instinctually, Ling opened the door wider and peeked inside.

Then stumbled back, putting a hand to his mouth to quell the sudden horror and nausea.

A body lay on the mouth of the stairwell. Utterly mutilated, blood spatter ran up the walls, and from what he could see of the face, it was frozen in terror. The ripped-open chest cavity got in the way though. Like a vise had split them blood eagle style, the ribs faced outwards, the intestines strewn about like a cat had gotten to a ball of wool.

Ling though, as black spots started to appear in his vision, noticed something particular. Caught between panic and derealisation, for some reason his mind chose to register two things: that this was the drunk guy who had tried to assault him, and that the heart appeared to be missing.

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As I was writing this, it occurred to me that my story started to share some similarities with the Lucifer TV show. That was an accident, and as I've watched the first three seasons, my story won't share many similarities from now on, but the whole demon/devil owning a nightclub...well, oops, I guess.

(Just FYI though, James in this is a lot more depraved than Lucifer in the show is)

Lastly, I won't do many author's notes from here on, I really just put my name to show the chapter's over.

~ Daci