Yassine lifted his head as the dancer walked into his private VIP room, swirling a glass lazily in his hand as he watched the young man saunter up. He set the glass down and smiled a tight, knowing grin as Maverick opened his pretty lips to speak all those common words. Yassine had heard them time and time again, and while they normally bored him to death, somehow they seemed a little more pleasurable, a bit more genuine coming out of the blonde's mouth. The young man was polite, thanking him for the previous tip, but Yassine waved this away with a languid motion of his hand. “You do not need to thank me, though the thought is appreciated. You were doing your job, and you were doing it exceptionally well. I see no reason not to reward my dancers when they put their all into their performance.” His English was impeccable, his accented speech silky despite Yassine's tone of finality. “I only ask that you continue to utilize such energy in your future performances. You make me a lot of money, and I'd like to keep it that way.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#59b300">“Come, sit,” </span>he commanded, gesturing to the empty spot next to him on the cushioned couch.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#59b300">“You cannot drink while dancing. Well, perhaps <i>you</i> can, though I wouldn't recommend it,” </span>he laughed. Yassine gingerly retrieved the bottle of champagne and poured some into the empty glass, pursing his lips slightly as he savored the sound of bubbles popping. He handed the half-filled glass over to Maverick before setting the bottle down and taking his own beverage into his hands.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#59b300">“Have you tried Dom Perignon before, Maverick?”</span>he questioned, eyebrows raised. Chances were high the boy had indulged in finer drink; clients often liked to show their affections by purchasing drinks for their favorite performers, something the house never discouraged, though any dancer who became too sloppy to perform never returned for another night.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#59b300"> “If champagne isn't your preference, I'd be happy to order you something more to your liking. I simply thought, this being our first shared moment of privacy together, it was something worth celebrating. I've been watching you dance for a while now. I'm a fan.”</span><br/><br/>Another tight-lipped grin, one that suggested there was much more going on behind Yassine's eyes than the Iranian man was willing to part with. He sipped his glass slowly, with what seemed to be a hard sense of moderation. Yassine was never one to overindulge in rich food or drink, instead preferring the curious and exploratory lips of a handsome man, though that same restraint was not present when it came to experimenting with high-end illegal substances. Hidden beneath his expensive dress shirt was a small vial on a platinum chain. The vile appeared innocuous enough, just a small, nondescript piece of jewelry that wouldn't attract a second glance even if he didn't keep it behind a shield of fabric. Inside of the vial was a small amount of white powder, though Yassine had no desire to enjoy such things tonight. Paying attention to Maverick was far more important, for both himself and his plans. It was difficult to make a deal when under the influence and he had zero intentions of allowing Maverick to slip through his fingers.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#59b300">“Enjoy your drink. Tell me about yourself. It's rare I receive the opportunity to learn about my performers. After you share, you can dance, and I will be here to watch.”</span>