He was a little bothered by Natalie when she came over. It wasn't like she was going to try her value to him, she was usually a good errand girl, but he'd had enough pretties rubbing up against him today, hoping to get into his inner circle, that he was a bit fed up. It was perhaps that juncture in his drunkenness, also, when the alcohol content mingled with his testosterone in a unfavorable way. People had died when he was in this seemingly chipper mood. A real party should have some bloodshed, yes?<br/><br/>It was a good thing, then, that the petite brunette was not here to whisk him away to one of the finer bathrooms and act out some sorely dreamt scenario on her knees. He felt a little bad for assuming, actually, and it sobered him a bit. He left her with a fistfull of bills and told her to take the rest of the night off for the news she'd come with. In the mauling music and the laser lights he reveled at the entertainment to come for another half-song before he went about leaving the dance floor, tastefully littered with paid-for bodies, blanketed in cologne and candy fumes.<br/><br/>A few guards gave him a questioning look when he passed them, and he shook his head for their offered company. Still, three stayed on his tail even if they were polite about it, stopping to talk to friends and skirts on their way. Cole would be good to the one who lead them, since he seemed to know his shit. Along the way he picked up a bottle of something clear and expensive, and two glasses. He shouldered himself into the room Natalie had mentioned. He'd fuck twins here, and killed a man.<br/><br/>He was submerged in his element, entering this quieter place, and sighed in relief from the onslaught of the incisive tunes. His arms came out, glass vial in one, and the two smaller cylinders in the other. His arms and the red stories on them were bare, and the other muscles connecting to them from his back and ribs also moved, unprotected by the black tank top. He snapped his tongue loudly at her casual wear, and raised a spoiled eyebrow.<br/><br/>"Detective!" he greeted and made his way past the low table to where she sat. He put the bottle and the glasses down. "Look atchu." Both his arms stayed out to wave her up standing, eager to have the hug his limbs suggested. If she did humor the light-hearted villain, he'd hold her to him, and make very little effort for secrecy about smelling that hair that she'd let out. If she'd been struck still by the situation, his hand would of course slide low to cup and feel that battle-honed behind in those inviting jeans.<br/><br/>If she did not reciprocate in his loving welcome, he'd of course sour, but still sit down beside her and pour their glasses.