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"I can't believe you just called me jolly giant. Can't you give me a more... interesting nickname?" Thorne retorted, his expression faltering with embarrassment. He wasn't that tall. Well. Maybe. "I can't make any promises. And I know a guy if we have to anyways."

My not-boyfriend.

He gestured and walked, mostly straight, down the street. The next club was a garish blur of lights and color and sound, and he grimaced at it and the EDM that accosted them both.

"Nevermind, call a ******** medic. That is actual trash music."

"Sure they do," Thorne responded, amused and laughing. "Just like drinks come to you in clubs, I guess."

His grin was wicked, a little too sharp, when she said she would follow him where he went. "That's dangerous, you know," he said, gesturing her into the mouth of the next club, waiting only long enough for the bouncer to usher them through, "I could lead to some pretty s**t places. Though I guess with your taste in music, you would find anywhere decent." He tilted his head, eyes brightening with amusement. "Come on now, show me how fast you can get a guy to buy you a drink."

Thorne decided in that moment that he liked Chel. She was - interesting. A good interesting. A vibrant interesting. He could do with a little more of her craziness in his life.

"I'll drink to that, if we had any drinks to drink with," he retorted, speaking louder to be heard above the music. He gestured for her to follow him to the bar, companionable with every stranger he ran shoulder to shoulder into, his eyes wild and his mouth twisted into the sharp curve of a smile.

He threw a look back at Chel and said, "Well then, I suppose I'll have to play the gentleman tonight, huh? Unless you're only here to dance."

"And bitchy white guys," Thorne retorted, glancing at her in amusement. He gestured to the bartender, ordering straight shots of whatever was cheap and strong.

Tonight was a night for going all out, apparently.

He glanced back at Chel, swiping his own shot off the counter when it came and glancing down at her. "To shitty music and bitchy white girls?" He offered, his tone rolling with amusement.

"I'm flattered," Thorne retorted, his voice rife with amusement. He threw back the shot without about as much reaction as Chel because what the hell. He'd tasted better, and he'd tasted ******** worse.

Huffing as he slapped the empty shot glass back on the bar counter and pushed his hands to the back of his neck, he returned his gaze to Chel and snorted, amused. "Do you want me to?" He asked, more out of dry curiosity than anything. "But not really. I just like a good time, and you seemed like a good magnet for it, yeah? How about you though?" His grin was mild. "Do you often follow random guys around from club to club for shitty music ventures?"

Thorne snorted.

"I'm glad that I reach your high standards for that, at least," he said, his lips curling into an amused grin. "My place might be a bad game changer though ala territorial... friends living next door." How did he explain that there was a territorial monster-guy living next door? How did he explain that they weren't dating, but they weren't exactly just friends either?

He shrugged and added, "Fair," when she mentioned it being fun.

Live fast, die young, or something like that, right?

And he'd be a hypocrite if he said he hadn't done the same exact thing.

Thorne snorted. "Really?" he eyed her, not quite believing what she said. Rolling his shoulders, Thorne crossed his arms and laughed. "Look," he added, "I'm - not looking for a hookup, or anythin'. And you could damn well do better than me if that's your thing. All I have to offer is a ******** ton of cheap vodka and free breakfast."

He shrugged his shoulders and gestured to the bar, completely at ease.

"If you're into that kind of thing, by all means," he said, his voice rolling with amusement, "If not, I can buy you another drink and we can take bets on the DJ."