Inside, another scene was took place.
Madam Lily stood near the main stage. Her smile was on, painted and precise as usual, but it stopped before it reached anything like warmth.
Ash lingered a step behind her, arms crossed, frown set. A small knot of staff hovered at the edge—heels planted, shoulders tight, eyes forward.
Their attention fixed on the man seated in front of the stage.
Long black hair fell over his brow. A cigarette burned slow between his fingers, ash lengthening.
Tattoos crept from his collar up the side of his neck and under a weathered leather jacket. Blue denim. Heavy boots. A lighter snapped idly open and shut in his free hand. chk—shk~ chk—shk~ He looked bored. He also looked like he owned the moment.
To his right, the woman didn't look bored at all. Angled posture, green eyes cool under long brown hair. Muscle drew clean lines along her arms where the sleeveless vest left them bare, the fitted jacket open over it.
