01-25-2026, 02:43 AM
Ezvin didn’t rush it.
He let the suggestion hover just long enough to feel the attention on him. Cadence’s bright, open curiosity and Lore’s measured appraisal seeped into his skin, and he enjoyed it in the quiet, private way of someone who secretly enjoyed the moment.
He smiled, slow and knowing, then leaned in just enough to make it feel like a secret was being shared.
“Alright,” he said, voice dropping half a register, playful but deliberate. “There’s a place called Hex. It's literally underground. There's no sign, no website, and if you ask the wrong person about it, they’ll swear it doesn’t exist. Which, of course, means it absolutely does.” He chuckled to himself, tracing an idle circle on the table with one finger, drawing out a drip of coffee that had pooled there.
“It’s occult-themed, but not in the fake way. Think tarot menus that actually change, bartenders who ask questions they shouldn’t know the answers to, velvet curtains instead of doors. The kind of place where people go to be a little more honest than usual. You don’t dance because someone tells you to. You dance because the music pulls you. Or you don’t dance at all and sit in a corner judging everyone else. Both are acceptable life choices there.”
He straightened, smile turning boyish again, deliberately lighter.
“It’s not wild in the sense of losing control,” he added. “It’s wild in the sense of realizing you're not in control of anything.”
He locked both of their gazes.
“There's no pressure. We can go, have a drink. If it’s not your scene, we leave after one cocktail and pretend it never happened.”
He let the suggestion hover just long enough to feel the attention on him. Cadence’s bright, open curiosity and Lore’s measured appraisal seeped into his skin, and he enjoyed it in the quiet, private way of someone who secretly enjoyed the moment.
He smiled, slow and knowing, then leaned in just enough to make it feel like a secret was being shared.
“Alright,” he said, voice dropping half a register, playful but deliberate. “There’s a place called Hex. It's literally underground. There's no sign, no website, and if you ask the wrong person about it, they’ll swear it doesn’t exist. Which, of course, means it absolutely does.” He chuckled to himself, tracing an idle circle on the table with one finger, drawing out a drip of coffee that had pooled there.
“It’s occult-themed, but not in the fake way. Think tarot menus that actually change, bartenders who ask questions they shouldn’t know the answers to, velvet curtains instead of doors. The kind of place where people go to be a little more honest than usual. You don’t dance because someone tells you to. You dance because the music pulls you. Or you don’t dance at all and sit in a corner judging everyone else. Both are acceptable life choices there.”
He straightened, smile turning boyish again, deliberately lighter.
“It’s not wild in the sense of losing control,” he added. “It’s wild in the sense of realizing you're not in control of anything.”
He locked both of their gazes.
“There's no pressure. We can go, have a drink. If it’s not your scene, we leave after one cocktail and pretend it never happened.”