𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋, 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 (𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰)

𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜: [𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙪𝙖𝙡] 𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙙𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙮 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙖 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙩𝙝 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤𝙭𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙪𝙖𝙡. 𝙞 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙯𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨. 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣.

𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙣𝙛𝙞𝙘, 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙖 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩. 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙥 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙥 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙖 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤𝙭𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙮.

Standing beside you with his hand over your backside, Getou continued to mingle with the businesspeople at the bar's opening. You fidgeted with the straw in your drink, flashing an occasional smile whenever someone looked at you.

Some of the attendees at this party seemed, well... less friendly than you would've expected. They seemed more like security guards that are meant to be out fighting people than accountants and the such... 

When a well-dressed man in a maroon suit walked up behind you and tried to get your attention, Getou slid his hand down to your ass and turned around, giving him a low, "fuck off." 

While you didn't appreciate his hand placement, it at least worked. The man walked away, defeated.

You felt your phone buzz a few times in your clutch, but just before you took it out to see who was texting, Getou leans over to your ear. "Grab me a drink? I'll be over by the couches."

He can't take two minutes to get his own cup? Ugh, whatever. "Fine, what do you want?"

"Whatever you're drinking. Actually, something stronger. If I have to talk to another guy whose ego is so far up his ass it sticks his hair up like that again," he whispers while pointing to the man he had just been talking to, "I'll need a few drinks. In time, of course."

He straightened his back and tucks a loose hair that had fallen from his updo behind his ear.

He gives your ass a quick tap with his hand and you sneer at him while wandering off to the bar. Just as he had presumed, some big-headed broker stepped up to initiate a conversation with him.

You get the bartender's attention and order a couple drinks while placing your empty glass down on the counter. While you have some time, you take your phone out from your clutch and view your notifications.