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It was, among the many music bars he'd been to, one of the worst. And that was saying something. That was definitely saying something.

Half-underground, sweat-soaked, and riddled with bathrooms stinking of sex, Love & Desire left - well, something to be desired. But Thorne still found himself moving through the crowds, basking in the bass thrumming through his boots, the sweat coiling at the base of his neck. He hadn't meant to end up here, and was sure that was the same excuse as half of the crowd.

But he'd been sleepless and restless and the music helped to mute it all.

So here he was, alone and anonymous. Here he was, and the night was still young.

Thorne really should have seen that one coming.

His expression twisted between mingled surprise, confusion, and - oh god, there was something in his shoes. His jaw worked, but he knew that to get heard over the trashy music playing, he'd have to shout. So he did anyways.

"Careful now," his tone rolled, thunderous and amused despite the gross feeling of wetness between his toes, "You'll never get someone to dance with you like that."

"Don't be," Thorne yelled back, "I take up way too much space."

He watched, dumbfounded, as she disappeared and reappeared. That was - well, new. Usually he was anonymous in places like these, and people who disappeared... didn't return.

"You're - " Thorne worked his jaw and shrugged and laughed. "Who are you? Nice hair."

"Please," Thorne drawled, amused, and let the girl go for it, "I'm not that interesting. Alexander. Most people call me Thorne these days though."

He paused with a snort. "Friends are a bit of a work in progress since i just moved here."

He paused, and then added, "Don't worry about the shirt. It was trashed already." Before he could continue with a poor attempt at a joke, the DJ decided to play something even trashier, even worse than before. Thorne couldn't help the distinct noise of contempt that splintered from his throat at it.

Why.

"What can I say?" Thorne replied, "I live to please!"

He chuckled at her sudden response, shaking his head, and then she was swearing and asking him to dance and - and what?

"This song is trash!" He shouted, even as he took her hand. "This song is absolute trash, and you want to dance to it?"

Also I have two boyfriends and I should probably warn you about that just in case.

But - not yet. TMI.

Thorne did not think that at all. "I don't think you understand the definition of good," he shouted back, less out of spite and more with amusement, his grin infectious and spreading ear to ear.

He wasn't unused to dancing - remembered it as easily as he remembered painting, and sketching, and singing. He couldn't help laughing at how easily Chel lost herself to the music. As trashy as it was.

When the DJ cut it, he glanced at her, eyes flaring wickedly.

"Wanna bet on just how shitty the next song is going to be?"

"You know me so well," Thorne shot back, snorting at the wink he received. His eyes rolled, but he looked back at her with an amused grin.

"Can we get drinks at the next place? I'm too sober for this s**t."

"How depressing," Thorne deadpanned, not at all concerned by the fact that Chel would probably be picking up more drinks than she could manage no matter where they went. "I only have the too-tall-to-be-useful thing going for me."

Oh yeah. Thorne was dense.

Once outside, Thorne glanced at his companion. "Alright, where to? I have a lineup of at least ten shitty music clubs on any given day, but I'm open to surprises."