#raf003.

 she found raf easily, a head taller than most of the people at the after party, pulling his hand and prepared to drag him away if she had to. “ra-fa-el,” nahla drawled, refusing to use the shorter version of his name, “face of the fight game. not going to lie, i was rather hoping you would be incarcerated in italy and i could bail you out and further cement your dependence on my wit and charm and all that album sales money. don’t you dare say one of your fights is worth two billion times the value of one of my streams, i’m very mean when you piss me off.” she paused, but only for a second. “get up, you’re dancing with me whether you like it or not.”