*Cesar freezes as the curtain sweeps closed behind them, staring around in shock. There's two walls made of brick, and two of heavy folds of cloth that blot light just as efficiently, and absolutely nothing else to hide them from the rest of the club. It's the most public place for sex he's ever been in, and he's looking around as though a second look would change things for the better.*

*It doesn't. The shotglass is still held stubbornly in his hand (even though most of its contents were knocked on is clothes by the seething crowd outside) and he tightens his grip, eyes leveling themselves towards Ryuzaki.*

*This isn't going to be easy. The ground feels like the deck of a ship in a storm, and Ryuzaki isn't nearly as drunk as him. Cesar finally turns his attention back to him, and the shift is screaming itself in the darkness.*

*His eyes are bright with excitement. Every muscle is tense. He holds the glass less like a jealous drunkard and more like someone armed, and it's all the warning Ryuzaki has before Cesar strikes.*

*One wild swing towards Ryuzaki's skull, heavy-side of the glass first. A second, third if he misses, or if the first two don't bring him down. He's stumbling, and by the third he's tripping over his own feet, falling heavily. The shotglass shatters close to his head, and Cesar flinches when the glass throws a shard close to an eye. He doesn't even notice the cut that a different shard does make, tiny and welling up with blood.*