Chapter Text
A pen rolled over the stack of papers on Ludwig’s desk, the clip stopping it from going further off the loose leafs.
The German-born man took the writing utensil and rolled it between two fingers, tapping it rhythmically on the fat of his palm a few times.
It was his favorite fountain pen that he had been using for a month now to take notes with in his old yellow legal pad, which was now curling at the edges from so much use.
Interns and employees were running like mad beyond his door, calling out names, places and the dates of scheduled meetings. The sharp yet reassuring smell of coffee took up the remaining air that didn’t smell like clean furniture, carpet and printer paper fresh from the Xerox machine.
Ludwig tapped his leather-laden shoe absentmindedly, looking over his word count and computer screen for the hundredth or two hundredth time. It was somewhere in the hundreds, that was for sure; it wouldn’t be Ludwig if he wasn’t a thorough person about his own writing. Spelling errors and other careless things were just the kinds of things that made you look silly in the news column of the New York Times.
It was remarkably sunny today, what with all the summer rain that’s been raging on over the city. Ludwig had been cautious to take an umbrella with him anyway because you just never knew and the idea of getting bogged down by rain on a work day was less than a pleasant one. Not to mention the men of the office would never stop teasing him about it if he ever came in with a wet suit.
“Hello, Luddy!” The smiling head of Miss Elizaveta from the Fashion column popped in. Her women’s tuxedo was clean pressed and lint free, her heels adding length to the frame of her legs. “How are you today? It’s pretty outside isn’t it?”
“Miss Hedevary,” Ludwig started, straightening up in his seat to address his usual visitor. “Yes, it’s very nice outside.”
She took three bouncing steps in, putting a hand to shield her eyes as she peered out into the large window to survey the seas of people and miniature cars down below. “I’m so lucky, too! I lost my umbrella at the subway station on my way home yesterday.”
“Would you like to borrow mine this afternoon?” Ludwig offered politely, never one to let someone as caring as Elizaveta go without something that she needed. Even if it didn’t rain, being careful was better than leaving it all up to chance.
“Oh, you’re so nice, Luddy! But it’s alright. Roderich from Entertainment said he would be happy to share his umbrella with me! I can’t wait for my shift to be over so I can make an excuse to go to Café Dulce Latte with him.” Elizaveta bubbled cheerfully.
“I hope the both of you have a wonderful time.” Ludwig replied, drinking the last of the caffeine, staring briefly at the brown saturation staining the bottom of the mug.
“Thanks.” Elizaveta smiled. Her eyes ran over the surface of the desk, pausing shortly on the meticulous desk calendar, office supplies, and then to his computer screen. “What’s your work today?”
“I’m finishing up an opinion piece on the drug wars currently plaguing South and Central America.” The blonde replied concisely.
“Well, that doesn’t sound like a very happy topic.” Elizaveta’s brows crinkled in worry while her hand patted Ludwig on the back. “Romano and Feliciano from Fashion are meeting up with Alfred and Yao from Business to a club this weekend. Would you mind coming for a little fun? If you don’t think it’s too much trouble to go.”
The German’s piecing blue ice eyes flickered as they battled the otherwise small decision. It was a very serious condition if he turned down yet another invitation to go out with colleagues. The other men at the office were starting to murmur amongst themselves if he refused an invitation within their earshot. Whispers of “Poor old fellow” or “stone-faced stubbornness” were one of the many petty and strangely unsettling comments he received from time to time.
A breath lumbered out from Ludwig’s nostrils, his chair sighing with him as he leaned back in it, agreeing with him that this was a very troublesome decision indeed.
“I suppose I can come for a while.” He finally said, his back straightening up as he finished spell checking and sent it away to the editor-in-chief. “Where is it?”
Elizaveta’s cheeks inflated with her pleased grin. “It’s at Club Luna. They’re having a special musical performance.”
Another head popped into Ludwig’s office.
“Oh, am I hearing about the concert at Club Lunaaaaa?” Laura sang.
“Wonderful timing, Laura! I was just about to invite you and your brothers too!” Miss Hedevary cheerfully quipped.
The catlike smile of Laura de Bourg from Parenting blossomed wider as she floated into the carpeted room, her ribbon holding back her short blonde hair. “I would love to go, absolutely! I’m not sure if Abel would like to go if not for the drinks but I know I’d definitely love to if Arthur Kirkland is performing!”
“Arthur Kirkland?” Ludwig asked with a tip of his head.
“You don’t know about Arthur Kirkland, Ludwig?” Elizaveta asked confusedly.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I recall a name like that…” Ludwig trailed off, flutters of embarrassment going down his spine. “The name is without a doubt familiar though.”
“It’s none other than a fast-growing name in European entertainment right now. Arthur Kirkland is a solo musician from the United Kingdom and now he’s touring here in America. His publicity manager placed a call to get him to perform unannounced at Club Luna as a mystery performer, but word got out of course and now everyone knows and made plans to go see him!” Laura, dancing on the balls of her heels, explained quickly.
“I can’t imagine how chaotic that will be,’ Ludwig pointed out, feeling sorry for the poor Brit facing the onslaught of the New York public’s hunger for entertainment.
“It definitely will. He’s very good looking!” Elizaveta added, with Laura nodding vigorously in tandem as she said so.
“He’s gorgeous! But there’s lots of nasty rumors going around about him being a merciless lothario. Arthur may be attractive but there’s no way I could speak to him. I’d be too scared!” Shaking her head, Laura started talking about the dangers of famous good looking men.
Ludwig nodded, agreeing politely with Laura as she talked, but also falling into his own train of thought. Celebrities were treated with a free pass on the disregard of order, rules and morality. Especially spoiled, stuck up, lecherous men who had no time for important matters other than their large paychecks and pleasant company.
However, he had already agreed to go, he couldn’t take back his choice, it would make him look…fickle. Fickle was a word Ludwig was not, so to Club Luna he would go.
“I’ll be looking forward to the club nonetheless, Miss Hedevary. It was nice of you to invite me, thank you.” He said, pulling a stack of papers neatly on his desk. Though there was no need to; he had restacked the pile minutes ago during the conversation.
“I’ll call you so we can all go together, alright Ludwig?” Elizaveta called over her shoulder as she and Laura exited his office, chatting about the attractive traits of a musician that Ludwig had recently learned was internationally famous.
The German was left alone with his thoughts on the celebrity.
He wasn’t so famous if not even Ludwig had heard of him, right? Although, he admitted that he wasn’t exactly up to date on all things in the media and it wouldn’t hurt to Google him or try to borrow a copy of Rolling Stones from Roderich’s desk.
Ludwig tapped away in the search box ‘Arthur Kirkland’ barely typing up the first four letters when it immediately appeared in the suggestions. He clicked and started reading the bio in a Wikipedia entry. Arthur Kirkland was 23, having learned guitar at an early age with a broad vocal range and contracted under Thunderwing Records. The latest album ‘Strung Up’ was a bestseller during the last week with the number one single called Rainy Days. Ludwig looked though the images of the musician and was caught off guard.
The man was strikingly beautiful. He appeared fragile and slender, and his eyes were polished emerald stones set against a pale boyish face with high cheek bones being framed with stylishly tousled dark blonde hair. In some pictures he was waif-like, in others he looked like he could play the part of an evil prince from a fantasy novel but in all of them, his disturbingly pretty eyes stared out to Ludwig, inviting him into the screen to dance a forbidden waltz.
Clicking through more and more pictures and images, Ludwig’s neck became increasingly hot and he loosened his tie a bit. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, just Googling a celebrity. Many people did that, right? And it’s not as if he was a porn star, Arthur Kirkland seemed to have more dignity than that, although not enough from revealing almost everything in an advertisement for underwear.
Ludwig quickly pressed the X on every webpage and turned off his personal computer, trying to ignore the afterimage of Arthur Kirkland’s silhouette against his eyelids.
Just a celebrity, another to gawk at and be enamored with for a short time until another one came to replace him. There was nothing else to learn or to know about the musician. Seeing him live in concert wouldn’t change a thing, Ludwig told himself.
Gathering his suitcase and coffee mug, he closed his office door and headed to the cubicles in the main building.
“Hey, Ludwig!” Feliciano cheerfully called the German over to the small hexagon beehive cubicles where Romano, Elizaveta, Laura, Yao and Alfred were all gathered.
“Hello, Feliciano,” Ludwig waved a friendly hand and joined them outside of his colleague’s cubicle. “Is everyone in the whole office coming?”
Indeed, the office was empty save for a few people here and there in their cubbies.
“No, Laura’s brothers couldn’t come.” Elizaveta answered, wrapping what was no doubt a designer brand scarf around her neck. “Honestly, the chief works them both pretty hard.”
“You’re damn right.” Romano agreed quickly after. “Honestly that bastard has to loosen up his ass or someday someone will deck him. Preferably me.”
“Nah, I just think he takes his job too seriously. Sure the guy has to loosen up but what he needs is to relax once in a while. Just because we’re the New York Times doesn’t mean he’s training the US Marines.” Alfred said, pulling on his hoodie jacket over his button up.
Ludwig glanced at his wristwatch and straightened his clothes. “We should get going. The concert will start in the late evening but if we get there early we can beat the crowd.”
“That’s Ludwig for you! Always early, never late.” Feliciano bubbled appreciatively, while his brother, Romano, scoffed.
“I don’t think being early will make a difference,” Yao cut in, his gloved hands pointing an index finger. “Traffic is going to be an absolute mess.”
Romano huffed. “It’s New York; big fucking surprise.”
After a few arguments between Romano and Ludwig about whether to take the subway or a taxi, the group agreed that walking would indeed be the faster route and all exited the building, with Romano grumbling but walking briskly with the group nonetheless.
“Oh, look! Everyone look up at the screen!” Laura pointed out an advertisement on a nearby building and a pale familiar face was smiling easily through the screen at the audience.
“It’s Arthur Kirkland!” A teenage girl from a crowd pointed her hand up in excitement, and Ludwig had to look.
It was a soda commercial that featured the artist’s upcoming performance at Madison Square Garden.
Once more it was hard to tear his attention away from the musician’s eyes, Ludwig had noticed. They were a very lovely shade of forest green and the tall blonde man wondered if it was special lighting effects that made them look so rich and glittery.
“Hurry up you potato munching bastard, let’s get going!” Romano griped angrily, pulling along his younger brother Feliciano with him to catch up with Yao and Alfred. “You can ogle the guy later when we reach the club.”
Ludwig snapped out of his trance rather curtly and began to walk again as they entered an underground opening to the subway tunnel.
Splashing away the pink from his cheeks, Arthur rubbed the water out of his eyes as it dripped down to his chin.
He stood there at the sink in one of the water closets, or “bathrooms” as they called it here in the former colonies. The reflection in the mirror showed a pink flush in his cheeks and hair soaked from water. The lighting was bright, even though the space was a bit cramped for his liking.
Green eyes caught sight of the moving shadows and lights from underneath the door that led outside, to a club hall alive with music and the heat of dancing bodies in one room.
Someone rapped on the door. “Come on, Artie let’s get you to make up!”
A redheaded man with the spitting complexion of Arthur opened the door. “Ready to go, baby bro? Your public awaits.”
Ludwig did not feel like a wall flower.
Wall flowers were small, fragile, little things. Wall flowers could be swept away on their feet to dance by someone strong and charming. Wall flowers were cute young girls that played coy and giggled at jokes. Wall flowers had a chance to be noticed.
Ludwig felt thousands of light years away from the word “wall flower”.
If anything, he was a wall mountain. He couldn’t invite anyone to dance, it was like he developed an allergic reaction to human interaction when surrounded by loud mainstream music, dancing anatomies and the presence of alcohol. If anyone approached him, his intimidating appearance would make them walk away as if aborting an impossible mission. He couldn’t help it, he got tense easily and it showed.
It was humiliating. He didn’t know what to do.
A hand rested on his shoulder. It was Alfred.
“Hey Ludwig! Doin’ alright?” His megawatt smile was confident and carefree. Ludwig didn’t remember a moment where he saw Alfred lose his cool over something like a club. Even though he was the superior, Ludwig really wished he could have Alfred’s social butterfly skills.
“I think I should leave…” Ludwig began, shifting his weight between his left to his right foot and gripping his hand around his beer bottle restlessly.
“What? The music’s too loud!” Alfred yelled, pointing at his ear to emphasize.
“I said I think I should leave!”
The shorter blonde scrunched up his face at the idea of leaving. “Why? We just got here.”
Ludwig shook his head, refraining from saying that it had felt like a good 20 minutes to him.
20 minutes of all this was all he could take. “I feel stupid.”
“You aren’t stupid! You’re just not… used to this that’s all. Give it some time. If you want I can get Laura to dance with you, at least try one song before you leave.” Alfred’s face was sympathetic but with his freakish strength, he forced Ludwig to abandon his beloved beer on the bar counter top to the dance floor where Elizaveta, Laura and Feliciano were dancing. “Come on, it won’t hurt to try!”
Stiff movements were what carried Ludwig over as he tried to escape the surf of busy people in movement. But the power of the crowd and the energy was so contagious, it made Ludwig become increasingly invigorated.
As his feet were starting to pick up a rhythm from a temple deep inside of his muscles, he noticed that a stage hand was picking up a generator box near stage right.
All the lights were shut off. The crowd stirred, momentarily blinded by the sudden jet blackness and a few even heckled and booed the DJ for turning off the music along with the lights.
“Guess who came to Club Luna, New York?!” A voice belonging to (most likely) the DJ boomed from the speakers.
As inconvenienced as the throngs of people were by the absence of their precious music and light show, they all remembered why it was so crowded in the first place and they came alive in a bonfire surge of heat and screams.
“Kirkland, Kirkland, Kirkland!” The chanting of the crowd was deafening, and for a moment Ludwig was sure his hearing was broken as women, men and others led a battle cry and it broke into more screams as a single spotlight lit. Out stepped a prince of darkness into center stage. Eyes a rich peridot, bathed in light and dressed in a river of ink, skulls decorated his right fingers and a flannel scarf crowned his blonde hair. Arthur Kirkland was poised over the microphone, a red glittering guitar in his hands like a scepter.
The crowd behind Ludwig pushed and surged like a storm, and he found himself being propelled forward through the jet stream of people, being washed along the island of the stage, looking up to the proximity of the single performer basked in light.
Lips greeted the microphone. “Rainy days… how I long and wish you’d go away,” Arthur sang the opening lines then his slender fingers dashed madly on the strings of the electric guitar, making music flood the club hall once more.
Ludwig tried his best to push back against the trench of adrenaline, nearly being swallowed by the swell of fans. Bouncers did their best to calm the invasion of hands from the stage back out into the dance floor, but it was no use. The frenzy coiled and swallowed up the unfortunate person that dared come near.
“Ludwig!” A familiar voice barely floated from the depths of roars to reach the German’s ear. He turned his head to see Laura barely managing against the crowd, her tall frame being pushed around like a rag doll.
An instinct to protect kicked in. He dove into the mob and fought the tsunami that made up the worst of the dancers, taking Laura under his stead. Her strong arms and his joined to make a buffer to the warzone surrounding them. Quickly he lead her outside to adrenaline-free air, and there they met Alfred and Romano, who had barely managed to salvage themselves out.
“It’s like a Black Friday sale in there! Almost,’ Alfred said heavily as he tried catching his breath, his cheeks told the tale of a mad dash. “It’d be exactly like a Black Friday sale if there was a mosh pit.”
“Fuck that shit, I’m out,’ Romano gasped, not one bit amused by Alfred’s Black Friday sale joke. “The drinks were good but the crowd was a pack of wolves.”
“Where is everyone else?” Ludwig asked, wondering whether Elizaveta, Feliciano and Yao had made it out safely. It sounded something like police sirens in the distance.
“Yao left early.” Alfred explained, straightening his jacket. “Said the music was too loud.”
“He would leave with such an old-man thing to say!” Laura laughed.
“I’m glad he left before it got crazy though.” The bespectacled blonde added.
“We’re here~!” The familiar voice of Elizaveta tittered as she and Feliciano entered the conversation from the light show of the club. The song blared for a moment from the open doors until it was muffled again as it swung shut.
“Arthur Kirkland was so cool, wasn’t he? I barely got to see him before it became a den of lions.” Laura complained with a chuckle.
“Ah well. We’ll still have a chance to see him at Madison Square.” Elizaveta smiled. “I pre-ordered tickets with a little help from Roderich.”
“Gotta admit, the song was pretty catchy, right Romano?” Alfred turned to the older Vargas brother in question.
“Wh-what? I couldn’t care less.” The olive eyed man huffed.
“Come on, I saw you nodding your head along.”
“I was thinking of another song. Besides, what’s so great about that Kirkland bastard?” Romano said as he crossed his arms over his blazer, his expression dour.
“Aw, Roma’s jealous of the famous musician!” Laura teased, poking the Italian’s cheek.
“No I’m not! I barely learned he existed yesterday!”
“Did you like the song, Ludwig?” Feliciano asked over the Belgian’s continued teasing over his older brother. With a tip of his head, he looked up at the much taller blonde.
“Oh? Yes, I-I did.” Ludwig said honestly. It was fast paced but he really did find it pleasant.
“Well, if that’s it then I’m heading home. I don’t want to get swamped by the cops when they show up if you ask me.” Romano said, and indeed the sirens Ludwig knew he had heard were already blaring in the near distance.
“You don’t think there’d be an accident, do you big bro?” Feliciano fretted anxiously to his older brother. His hands were shaking lightly at the idea of people getting hurt. The older Italian-born lightly bonked him on the head in reassurance.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure the police and paramedics will handle any serious crap, okay? Calm down.”
Ludwig, who was listening intently to all the sirens and the muffled music inside suddenly stop, let a hand slip into his coat where a camera was weighing down in a pocket. His fingers closed around the strap near the eyelet.
Maybe if he hung back from the group to take a closer look, he could maybe catch some photos to submit to Roderich later to cover in the paper. Not that he was hoping to catch a picture of Arthur Kirkland, of course, he was no star struck fan, but the possibility was ghosting in the back of his mind. If he could somehow bypass the crowd in the confusion, he could be able to take a snapshot of the whole situation.
Ludwig blinked hard a few times at the ridiculous thoughts going through his head. He wasn’t the paparazzi, this was no time to be taking photos of celebrities like some tabloid reporter. Ludwig Beilschmidt was better than that, he was a news columnist, not some no-account stalker. Maybe he should forget about the whole thing and let the rest of the media make smoke over this whole debacle in the morning news coverage.
But there wouldn’t be much coverage from TV as there were in newspapers. American media had a reputation of being a little biased and reporting little bits of information, not the whole situation.
Shortly after Romano and Feliciano both left with the girls, it was just Alfred and Ludwig left near the entrance (if by “near”, you meant “across the street as far away from the club overflowing with cop cars” then yes, very near the entrance).
“You doing anything later Ludwig? Going back to the office and doing some overnight work?” Alfred asked. His hands were stuffed in his jacket pockets, where Ludwig could hear house keys jangle.
“Not really,’ Ludwig sighed. “It’s been very…crazy.”
Alfred chuckled, nodding his head a bit in agreement. “Yeah, same here. Say, don’t you live in a condo nearby?”
“Yes, I do. I’ll be able to walk, it’s just a few streets over.”
“Did you agree to come with us because you thought ‘Hey, I guess I’ll go, it’ll be the same way home’?” Alfred bluntly quipped.
Well, it wouldn’t be Alfred if he beat around the bush, Ludwig thought.
He admired the way the bespectacled blonde could be very honest with himself and with others regardless of any circumstance. Ludwig envied him more than Alfred himself would realize.
“Well, no. I really didn’t like how people thought I was so uptight all the time. I could have fun too. I’m just not used to relaxing around others without a drink or two.”
“Oh yeah!” Alfred’s head jerked up in discovery. “That’s why you didn’t want to let go of your beer! Sorry, man.”
“It’s alright, I’m not exactly going to cry about it.” Ludwig chuckled.
Alfred smiled back. “Right.”
The two of them just stood there when a huge smoke bomb encased the side entrance of the club. A small group of indistinct figures silhouetted against the city nightscape were booking it down the alley from the upended door, and shortly after a mob of people followed through behind the small group, bright orbs shuttered their flashes as the paparazzi was stopped after they came out of the club. The police and security were holding the drizzling flood of fans and camera crews back just in time.
“Whoa, didja see that?! They totaled that door just to get out!” Alfred pumped his fist, stars in his eyes at the events that just unfolded in front of their very eyes. Even if it was across the street, with squad cars and New York traffic in the way.
“I hope they made it out alright.” Ludwig said half-heartedly, honestly not in the mood to care if Arthur Kirkland made it out. Some way or another, celebrities found a way to escape the media and hordes of fans. Their methods were both risky and ingenious, Ludwig had to give credit where it was due.
“Man, I can’t wait to tell my brother I got to see a paparazzi chase with an explosion in it!” Alfred was practically jumping up and down in excitement and Ludwig wondered at his energy. If a company could bottle some of Alfred’s excitement, he was sure they’d make millions off of it.
“Well, good night Alfred. I’ll see you at the office.”
“Bye, Ludz. See ya in the morning!”
Making his sure way through the familiar ads and streets of the city, Ludwig was thinking hard about the evening’s events while walking through pedestrians. He was appreciative that he had said yes to Elizaveta’s offer. He had been talked (er, forced) into dancing with close co-workers, saw a celebrity up close live on stage, and witnessed a paparazzi chase. Albeit, the last one wasn’t very fortunate for anyone but at least it had brought some excitement.
Red street lights turned green and he crossed the white lines to his street in front of the building where he lived.
For an evening out, it wasn’t so bad, he thought. Maybe this was the kind of thing he needed from time to time, to dedicate some of his extra time to going out to have a bit of fun. He greeted the front desk and pressed an elevator button to go up from the lobby. From there, he met the calm hall of the floor of his condo, and took out his keys for the door.
Next time he could try dancing first before anyone else. Wouldn’t that be something?
As his fingers juggled with the keys, his other hand took out the camera from his pocket. Thinking back, he didn’t know why he bought it, he wasn’t a reporter, but maybe…part of him wanted to be. As mortifying as having to appear on local or national TV sounded, it was still a whimsical idea he kept hidden away in a drawer, maybe even a secret dream of his. But he really shouldn’t expect much. He was a writer not a reporter, no matter how much he morphed the idea into something that could possibly happen if the circumstances were right.
It was just the way things were. Why should he try fate?
He opened the door to greet the empty hall that led to the kitchen. Surprisingly, his dogs weren’t yipping at his feet. Then again it was very late. They were probably waiting for him in the bedroom.
“I’m home,” he announced, more to affirm himself than anything else. He closed the door and glanced at the coat rack, seeing a black coat that he didn’t remember putting there but maybe he had left by mistake? Sometimes he put a coat there when he knew it would be cold, but black? It was midsummer in New York.
Maybe Gilbert had swiped his extra house key and put it there as a prank.
Walking into the living room, he saw the remote on the couch and not near the TV like it should be. He always left it there, and the room didn’t feel like it had been undisturbed for the time he was at the office. Like someone was there or had been.
“Gilbert if you’re in here, this is not funny.” Ludwig said loudly to the room, and was surprised to not hear an answer. He walked through the kitchen and his ear perked up to the sound of the shower-head running. “Gilbert?”
Arthur craned his neck up from the shower, his head and shoulders were already drenched in hot, relaxing water.
He had thought he had heard a voice.
His manager didn’t set him up with an occupied flat right? He was sure it was empty.
The place was so clean, it seemed like it hadn’t been used in months.
After the small performance was cancelled, his brother had made a quick deal with the building manager, hoping to have a place to hide until the maddening horde was shooed away by the pigs and security.
He just hoped no one had seen him being ushered into the building, especially paparazzi.
Arthur positively loathed paparazzi. Their stupid obnoxious cameras in his face, their sweaty handed microphones jabbing his chin, impertinent, snarky questions about him, his thoughts, his opinions, what would he do, when will the next concert be, can we quote you on that? It was infuriating. He had wanted to make music, not answer silly questions like favorite colors and shampoo preferences.
It was like he was some sideshow freak being exposed for all the world to see, watching and waiting for the moment that the pressure would make him fall to ruin. What’s a chap to do?
The latch of a door opened.
Despite the hot water, Arthur’s blood ran cold. His eyes darted through a beige opening of the curtain, the steam clearing to let him see a bulky forearm enter the room.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit.
“Gilbert, are you using my shower? You didn’t bring your baby chick again, did you? I don’t want its feathers in my sink again.” The person beyond the shower curtain grumbled.
That was definitely not room service.
Argh, Arthur knew he shouldn’t have let his brother do all the deciding!
How the hell was he going to explain his presence to someone while using that someone’s shower!? He was trespassing!
To make things worse, he had left his clothes that he wore from the performance in clear view in front of this stranger who most likely had heard of him, even if there was a small chance that he didn’t know who he was, or if he was there at Club Luna, there was still the solid outcome of being arrested for a misdemeanor.
There was no easy way for this to go. Might as well get it over with.
Arthur switched off the water and he opened the curtain to show his face.
Fuck it.