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<br/>
Before the unexpected request to dance in the VIP lounge, Michael might have said three entire words in passing to Mr. Mohsen. Those three words more than likely consisted of, <b>"Evening, Mr. Mohsen." </b><br/>
<br/>
To be honest, Michael couldn't remember whether his cheerful greetings were even acknowledged by Yassine at the time or not, because his boss was usually entering his office for a business meeting, or passing through on his way to the main stage to observe the dancers performing their sets. Michael was trying to stay beneath the radar regardless. <br/>
<br/>
No one working at Club Abyss could say they knew who Yassine Mohsen was on a personal level. </span></span><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="font-family: 'Georgia'">It was as though he'd been parachuted in from Milan, Paris, or some other fashionable place none of the others had ever been to, and he certainly dressed the part. Mr. Mohsen was sort of an enigma to most of the dancers, and he seemed to prefer it that way. <br/>
<br/>
But the more mysterious the man seemed to be, the more rumors seemed to spread about him. While working at Club Abyss, Michael had heard multiple people gossiping in the changing room on numerous occasions. Michael just dismissed everything he'd overheard as bullshit, he never participated as a cog in the rumor mill. <br/>
<br/>
Over time, he heard that Yassine was from every Arabic speaking country in the world, yet no one had pinned down the exact country where his exotic accent came from.  Some of the most outrageous gossip could be had in the changing area, but in order to participate Michael had to put his own business out there and he wasn't willing to do that.</span></span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Georgia'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><br/>
He remained quiet while listening to some of the most ridiculous speculation he'd ever heard before in his life.<br/>
<br/>
"Did you hear the latest? Wanda said she found out that Mr. Mohsen is actually the brother of that actor that played on the TV show, <a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.imdb.com%2Ftitle%2Ftt0411008%2F&amp;hash=aeae1859fc7533748fc9f7abd8e604de" href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0411008/" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Lost.</a> What's his name?" asked Colton.<br/>
<br/>
<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FSayid_Jarrah&amp;hash=24211ad3160ee07c1aec2c1e7a2ff331" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sayid_Jarrah" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">"Oooh oooh! I know this! Sayid Jarrah?"</a> Sondra, the new girl, guessed.<br/>
<br/>
"Noooo...the actor's real name! Oh...its on the tip of my tongue....."<br/>
<br/>
Lakezia's carefully plucked eyebrows arched in deep thought as she struggled to recall the actor's name.<br/>
<br/>
"I loved Lost. I wish they'd bring it back." said Brittany.<br/>
<br/>
"Damn it! I <i>know</i> the man's name. Don't worry, it'll come to me!" Lakezia cursed.<br/>
<br/>
At the time, Michael couldn't have cared less about knowing whether it was true or not. He was there to do one thing and one thing only. Make enough money as a dancer so he could become financially stable enough to afford a place of his own. He was beyond tired of having to rely on the fickle hospitality of his friends, and crashing on their sofas. He had enough pride to ensure that all of his friends wouldn't ever put him up for free.<br/>
<br/>
Michael would spring for food or pay his friends a couple hundred towards their rent out of good faith, careful to get a written receipt in return because he didn't want to be considered a freeloader. Most of what he earned went straight to his bank account, where it was able to grow in value and not get completely blown. He used only what he needed to survive, and nothing more. It was important for Michael to stick to his goal.  He still mistakenly wanted to prove that he was doing just fine without his family. <br/>
<br/>
Even though Michael no longer needed their validation. Or their cash.</span></span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Georgia'"><span style="font-size: 18px"><br/>
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<br/>
Maverick entered the VIP lounge pumped up and ready to <i>rock and roll </i>for Mr. Mohsen, but had to ratchet down his desire to dance for him a little bit instead. He expected someone else to meet there with Yassine, not have a face to face, sit down conversation consisting of more than the three words he usually used in passing. Maybe the fleeting distance between them was the reason he hadn't yet felt the strange vibe that shook him to his core.<br/>
<br/>
Yep, the strange energy was definitely being projected from Yassine, and it made the cobra within him slither into a defensive coil, spreading its ribs as it flared its hood in warning.<br/>
<br/>
<b>"Sure thing, Mr. Mohsen." </b>Michael said.<br/>
<br/>
Michael couldn't lie about Yassine's observation. He had an all or nothing mentality when he danced, and his energy went right where it needed to go in order to <i>make it rain.</i> A mildly surprised expression caused his burnished brows to lift, as he was asked to grab a seat at the table with his boss. Close up, Michael was feeling like a nervous school kid around Yassine, his legs jumping anxiously beneath the table as he watched and listened.<br/>
<br/>
He hoped that he wasn't getting fired, but again, was perplexed when Yassine opened the expensive champagne bottle and poured the fizzy liquid into the pair of crystal flutes on the table, reserving one for himself and extending the other to him, he had to wonder.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Is this some kind of test?</i><br/>
<br/>
He held the champagne flute in his hand, fingertips growing damp from the chilly condensation on its sides as he waited for his host to drink first. Michael smiled as Yassine asked him if he'd ever tried Dom Perignon before.<br/>
<br/>
<b>"Yes, I have. One New Year's Eve in Times Square. Seems like ages ago. Please, call me Michael. Or Mikey. I only use Maverick when I'm on stage."</b><br/>
<br/>
He couldn't conceal his Irish heritage, because it came through loud and clear when his face turned red as a beet from the compliment his boss gave him. Admitting that he was a fan of his, completely blew him out of the water.<br/>
<br/>
<b>"A fan? Wow. Really?</b>" he chuckled.<b> "I'll stick to this one drink, and I'll be okay. Us Irish boys know how to drink."</b><br/>
<br/>
<b>"You really know how to flatter me. I guess I'm not getting fired today then?" </b><br/>
<br/>
It was reasonable at that point for him to take a sip of the champagne to extinguish the flames that had risen under his lily white skin, so he did. It would also provide Yassine with the answer that he needed to hear. Michael seemed satisfied with the drink as is, and didn't need anything else to sate his thirst right now.<br/>
<br/>
<b>"Like I said before, my name is Michael. You probably know my last name already, goodness knows all the saints and devils in Ireland do too. McFadden. I'm from Staten Island originally, came to the city a few months ago with stars in my eyes and fell in love with it. What else do you wanna know about me?" </b>he asked.<br/>
<br/>
Michael wasn't like the other dancers in Yassine's employ. He had his own mystery, and his business was on a strictly need to know basis. He had plenty of reasons to be bitter about life, but he walked and talked like he was out and about finding something inspiring about living in New York City. Somehow his personal stress rolled right off him instead of sinking in and twisting his thought process and affecting his work. <br/>
<br/>
Every night when he came to Club Abyss, he seemed to use his experiences as his impetus to dance even better than the night before.<br/>
<br/>
<b>"I find your accent intriguing. Tell me, where are you originally from? I'm the kind of guy that likes to know who's asking me personal questions, before I start answering them. If you get my drift?"</b><br/>
<br/>
As Michael waited for Yassine to answer, he took another sip of his champagne. At least the alcohol took the edge off the antsy behavior that was courtesy of Mr. Wolf, persona number two after the cobra living inside him. There was a third aspect as well, but so far the lion had hung back in the shadows of his metaphysical shields, raised up protectively around him.<br/>
</span></span>