@kayames location: Veil of Veins notes: meetcute! Kay came here looking for an interview and this is his first impression thanks.
drugs tw
In the sultry, dimly lit depths of one of the backrooms at Veil of Veins, Conan was sprawled on a velvet chaise, a low table before him bearing a line of vivid red Mind Spike powder. A prostitute knelt between his legs, her head bobbing rhythmically, her lips wrapped around his cock. The air was thick with the scent of perfume, sweat, and the acrid tang of the Mind Spike and whatever else was littered around. Bottles of wine spilled glasses, and some of Conan's friends lounged about in various states of undress. He'd downed a vial of nightfade, most of them had, painless and fearless there wasn't an inhibition in sight.
Conan had a job tonight on behalf of his patron, another job well done and true to his nature, he'd passed on payment in favor of a few nights at his favorite brothel.
The sloppy, wet sound of the whore's mouth around him muddled with the music that was pulsing from the record player in the corner. Conan's heart was rampant; one hand brought the gold tray holding the Mind Spike up to his nose, while the other held a bit of rolled IP parchment to his nostril. Inhaling, another line of the red powder hit his system like a jolt of lighting. Conan's senses came alive, his mind ran rampant, and his body tingled with electricity.
As Conan rode the wave of the Mind Spike, the door to the room creaked open, and in stepped a figure that Conan didn't recognize. The newcomer was slender, with bleached hair and sunken, desperate eyes. Conan's gaze locked onto the stranger, he set the tray down to let one hand fall limp at his side while the other rest on the prostitute's head. "You're new," Conan's mind was sharpened now, but he took a sharp intake through his nose: not sober. Yellow eyes flickered over the stranger's scrawny frame: not a magistrate either. "and sexy."
Conan tapped the worker on the head and grunted, "Give it up," she was just sucking on flaccid taffy at this point. True to the price, she moved on to a friend in the corner. Putting himself away but still unbuckled, he turned his attention back to the tray, more focused on the fix than the company as he started to cut up another line.
"You a fan or something, man?" Conan held the tray up for the stranger to take, he wouldn't recognize a face from the crowd if there was a pistol put to his head.
