Chapter Text
The Broker's POV (Current Day in the Phighting Universe)
[As with all my stories, none of this writing is final and it is subject to change frequently!]
The bass thrummed through the floor like a living organism, sending glasses of wine and beer rattling against wooden tables. Hoards of drunk and sober Inphernals alike danced like no one was watching, swinging their hips wildly and laughing raucously. The Broker weaved through the crowd expertly, occasionally bumping into someone on purpose and muttered a low, sly, 'So sorry~' or 'My bad~' before his clawed fingers dove into a pocket and snatched up a phone, piece of jewelry, or other fancy belonging. With sleek claws like his? Anything was possible to take from people.