"Damn, I think I'll always be jealous of Levi, YN," Bria comments as we walk home.

"What?" The comment catches me off guard. Bria is a renown belly dancer in the underground, she's disgustingly beautiful, and she's even stepped up to become a successful dance teacher and the head of the dancers in this part of town. What more could a woman want?

"I mean," she gently turns left, guiding me as well. "I want to be the one you dance for. You might not be great, but the feelings you give me... Mmm." Although she likes playing around with me when it comes to dancing, she does take it seriously. Without dancing, there would be no Bria. That was something we found out early.

"Bria..." I set my hand lightly on her free one. "You know that this is all thanks to you. Plus, look at who I've had a six no— seven-year crush on. I'm pretty sure I'm not the right person to be in lust over."

Bria chuckles lightly. I can tell she's not over it but appreciates the distraction. Soon we arrive at our house, if one could even call it that. Even with Bria's status, we weren't afforded remotely nice accommodations. Those were save for those high up in the family. Ackerman had a gang, not that it was very large, Gruessman had a gang and the largest of all was the Mitrasin gang. Rumor had it that the higher ups in that family went back and forth between Mitras and the underground. They had that kind of money.

"No problem," she laughs, bringing me back to reality. "And you don't need to thank me, watching you dance will be payment enough!" I roll my eyes at the playful but ultimately harmless girl grabs my arm and pulls me to our room.

I've got to get ready for tonight and there's no way she'd miss you getting dressed.

Chez Esmée. A French restaurant that's so damn fancy, you have to think it in italics every time. Chez Esmée. Every. Single. Time. Why is a French restaurant having a belly dancing performance? Since France was a culture long gone, no one was really sure what it involved besides the implied extravagance. Most likely, one of the families requested the dancers to show they were men of a "higher culture". Belly dancers cost more than prostitutes, having a skill to show, but they weren't much different.

"YN, are you ready?" One of the older dancers gives me a quick once over. They know this is important to me.

"Yup," I lie with a small smile. Butterflies cram into my gut. I'm about to go dance in front of the Levi Ackerman. It feels like my heart is about to jump out of my chest.

"You look great, YN, like a true icon picked your outfit out. You're on after this song." The song comes to an end and applause erupts as Bria gives herself a well-deserved humble brag. "...I mean, now."