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Finally. Cresil thought to himself. Even if it was overdramatic, he would have caused a scene of the dude didn’t leave. He was getting on his nerves spontaneously.
Cresil’s light blue eyes slowly admired the demon’s body. The leather pants he wore was enough to turn him on, everything else just amplified that. Drinking his second shot, Cresil hissed slightly from the alcohol making contact with his lower lip, the cut burning from the drink.
Before his chance left, Cresil looked back over at the demon and spoke with a curious tone of voice, noticing his eyes on the dance floor.
“Looking for someone?” Cresil enthralled as he leaned his elbows against the bar.
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"Why is it that, as a culture, we are more comfortable seeing two men holding guns than holding hands?"
~Ernest Gaines
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