"I'm thinking of childhood memories," Sereia bit to the point and forced a smile as the man rested into the couch.
"You have childhood memories of a bar…?" the man let out a scoff, "Quite the life," he yawned.
"Heh, everyone has some unhinged past," Sereia blew a raspberry, not knowing what else to do.
"Hm- I dunno," the man, brown in head and eyes, sighed, "Mine's pretty chill. The most," he lazily raised his hands to air quote, "unhinged," he dropped them over his stomach, "part of my life was when I had to begin faking amnesia. You know, the usual."
Sereia's brows disappeared into her hairline chasing after excitement and curiosity.
"You faked amnesia because…?" Sereia urged, almost leaning closer to him.
"Ah, you know, my parents o-ow-owed money to the mafia so, argh, they faked an accident and disappeared so now I have to—" he yawned loudly, urging Sereia to do the same, "Fakeit because I livein their house."
Sereia turned her entire body to face the man beside her. His eyelids were droopy and a small sultry smile enveloped his thin lips. His posture was slouched, graphic tee ridden against the backrest of the couch which revealed an athletic body underneath. His long legs clad in expensive black slacks were sprawled, ambitionless, over the tiles and under the table.
"Faking amnesia gets you money and leisure time? Are they trying to recover your memories?" Sereia asked in all seriousness.
"Pfft," the man huffed, "I amon anassignment," he said, his lips barely moving.
"OH? What? Assignment? Mafia assignment? What sort?" Sereia asked in haste, gently shaking the man by his arm to keep him awake.
"Iabe toooapim," he blurted, slouching further into the couch, "TEy killkillkill mi." In consequence, he began slipping onto the floor.
"Woah, ExCuSe ME!" Sereia bellowed as she tried to grab the man by his shoulders and pull him up in place. "Who gets drunk so fast?!" she let out an exasperated yelp in failure of pulling him up. He slipped down faster and his arse hit the floor in quite a painful fashion.
Though, somehow, he did not even budge.
Suddenly, a group of five buff men walked up to her table, "Ah, miss, let us handle him."
Sereia was about to agree when she noticed the eerily similar navy pants all of them had on, as if it were a uniform. But their shirts were different, with no name-tags, and Sereia had visited Knightley enough to know they weren't employees.
"No, no, it's alright, I'll call my friends," Sereia denied with a corporate smile adorning her face as slouched on the ground beside him.
"Ah, miss, he is a friend of ours—"
"So, you all matched pants and didn't tell him about it?" Sereia laughed, "Funny, because he's my friend as well."
The group hollered as if Sereia had uttered the joke of the century. Then, one of the buff men crouched to her level and whispered with intimidation more than Professor Wallace could ever muster, "Miss, are you inherently suspicious of people?"
Maybe it was the cut across his left cheek or the baldness of his head or the absolute girth of his neck or the bulk of his muscles which made Sereia reach out for a plate from the table and smash it on impulse. The sound wasn't loud enough under the bass, but still, people in proximity noticed and gasped.
"I don't know, do you usually drug your friends and they pass out with death on their minds," Sereia seethed as she wielded a broken shard like it were a weapon.
"Easy there, little girl," the man chuckled, unphased.
The gesture rose goosebumps over her spine.
"I will be when you leave us alone," Sereia said through gritted teeth.
The man rolled his eyes and with one tug, the man beside her was hanging by her intimidator's grasp. Sereia gasped in partial awe and mostly fear.
"Seriously? Are you fucking dumb?" the buff man sneered as he got up.
Sereia got up, as well, and instantly wrapped an arm around the limp body's waist and wielded the broken glass shard with another.
"I don't know about dumb, but crazy, prolly," she hissed and just as the men were about to grab her, she let out an ear-piercing scream.
Instantly, the music stopped and the hungry crowd gathered around them.
"Rei, what the fuck?!" San appeared to stand behind his friend, eyes wide with confusion.
"They drugged a dude and they're trying to kidnap him now!" Sereia announced, instinctively pulling the limp body closer to herself.
"This bitch is bonkers!" the man shouted back as Aren rushed to the scene with security and the club manager. "That guy is with us!" her intimidator announced, "She's kidnapping him! She drugged him! She's armed!" he pointed at the pointy plate shard.
"What the fuck?" Sereia scoffed, "This guy walked up to me and said that there was someone trying to kill him!" she announced, pointing at the limp body bridging her intimidator and herself.
The limp body hung in the middle with Sereia grabbing him his lower half and the latter his upper half.
"When the dude walked up to you, he was fucking fine!" the intimidator snapped.
"Ha! So, you were stalking him! It'll all be cleared up with a quick look at the CCTV, right Ms. Knightley?" Sereia snapped her head in the manager's direction.
"Yeah!" Aren shouted.
"Yes, of course," the manager agreed.
"Fuck this shit," her intimidator cursed and suddenly the five men were pointing guns at the crowd. "Leave the man or I blow your brains out."
The crowd erupted into chaos, some ducked, some hid, some tried to evade the bill and run away.
Sereia gulped and the plate shard fell out of her grasp, paled in comparison to the glistening nozzle pointing directly at her forehead. San grabbed Sereia's dress from behind and urged her.
"Leave him the fuck alone, why are you being so Gryffindor today!?" Nonetheless, Sereia stood frozen with fear.
"Sir! This is a club and I too have security to offer," the manager snapped, but before she could alert her armed guards, one of the buff men shot towards the ceiling and blew up a light.
Though, unfortunately or maybe fortunately, it blew up the power, somehow.
The crowd screamed, another shot fired, someone shoved Sereia's head down, someone tackled her intimidator and just as her eyes got accustomed to the darkness, she realised that the buff men were engaged in a fight with other buff men. Sereia couldn't gather much but no amount of night-blindness would have been able to avoid the sight of sparkly Aren grunting on the floor with Sereia's intimidator in a leg lock, the tip of her pointy neon heels piercing his sides as she punched him repeatedly in the gut.
Sereia gulped at the sight and a head-whack from San brought her back to the task at hand.
"Drag him," San whispered in her ear and they each grabbed a leg and began dragging the limp body over the dark tiles, occasionally hitting his head against a chair, table, or accidently getting him stepped on by the rushing crowd. Anything was better than death, wasn't it?
The crowd thinned as they reached the entryway and they hijacked a taxi by shoving a drunk person to the curb. Police sirens wailed at hand.
"Sorry, this one is ours! Call Aren, hurry, please," Sereia urged as she got into the taxi and pulled the limp body with all the strength in her gut.
San rushed into the passenger seat as the sirens closed in, "Hold up, just a moment sir, our friend is—"
Aren ran out of the entryway, barefoot and hair amess. She spotted the taxi waiting at her behest with a door open in her stead, the familiar face of Sereia cursing at her to, "Rush the fuck up."
And she did, as Police cars rounded the corner, Aren lunged inside the car and they locked the doors.
"Accelerate, sir!" San shouted and the driver compiled, zooming out of the crime scene they instigated.
For a moment an odd cloud of silence hung overhead as San punched in the address.
Then, Aren punctured it with a laugh, "Well, that was a heck of a procrastination technique if I had ever seen one."
A chuckle escaped Sereia's lips and San joined in.
"Imagine if they were really friends," San let out an exasperated laugh, pointing at the limp body between Aren and Sereia.
"Ha! Imagine!" Sereia joined in, laughing till tears slithered out of her eyes.
"We'd be accidental kidnappers!" Aren hollered, "My father would be so proud!"
San and Sereia stared at her, still wheezing, "Why? Does he run the Mafia?" Sereia asked.
"Well, duh," Aren exhaled before punching and slicing the air in a swift show off of her combat skill, "I'm trained to inherit. This would be my first gold star!" she let out a chirpy laugh.
Sereia laughed out louder.
"We're friends with a mafia heir!" San exclaimed as he hit his own thigh at the humour of the moment.
"We just potentially kidnapped a man from some other mafia!" Sereia croaked in between her laughs.
"And they're probably after all of us!" Aren clapped in closure.
And even the driver joined in on their laughs, "You're all fucked," he cackled.