((TW: Derogatory language, Drug use; will get updated if anything else comes up!))

The music bumped, his body moving to the reverberating bass on the crowded dance floor in The Closet. He moved in sync with another, the music taking over his body. Dancing was a reprieve, a time when he wasn’t concerned about work, about his nightmares. At the Closet he could be himself, a version of himself that he didn’t want others in his personal life to be exposed to.

Shame was a beast that Sam kept feeding. Asking for forgiveness for living in his sin, a sin that felt so natural to the essence of his being. Could he imagine life any other way?

He pried himself away from the other wizard, “I’ll be on the roof.” His chocolate skin was glistening in a film of sweat, and his chest pounded as he caught his breath. He rubbed the sweat off his forehead, and pushed his way through the crowd to get off the dance floor.

Sam felt light headed, with adrenalin, as he walked up the stairwell and past the double-doors to the rooftop where the music’s volume was tamer. Up on the roof he could think clearly, clearer then he could below. The music and bodies below could make someone forget that there was more to life then a promise of a lay.

He grabbed himself a glass of water to hydrate from the bar and found a quiet corner to light himself a joint. Searching his pockets, he realized someone had pilfered his joint, but left his lighter. Sam gulped down the remaining of the cup and abandoned it at a table. Scanning the rooftop, he saw a familiar dark-haired wizard and overheard him asking someone else for something he was in possession of.

Inviting himself to the group, Sam pulled out his lighter, pulling down on the spark wheel so the lighter caught, using his hand to guard the flame from the breeze. “Looking for a light, babe?” Sam asked, casually, smiling at Nyx. He locked eyes with Nyx behind his oversized glasses.

     "Stars, you're such a slut, James." The third wheel quipped.

"Yeah and you aren't?" He jeered back, jesting.

     "Whatever, James." They rolled their eyes at Sam, "See you later, Nyx." The broad chested wizard waved at Nyx and headed towards the bar.

Sam had seen Nyx around, but never caught his name before, "Nyx?" He asked, confirming if he heard his name right.

It was rare that he got a night off from the Scoundrels at the weekend but Nyx wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. The new moon was ages away and there was plenty blood to be had from the usual Saturday crowd in Manchester.

This is how he ended up at The Closet, badgering some bloke for a light. Kelp was one of few habits he was allowed to keep as a Bloodwell.

He was looking to get high and get laid. Nyx never had trouble either way. Loads of wizards bloody loved it when they found out he was a metamorphmagus, horny as fuck to get him drunk and in their beds (if that) to fulfill a fantasy. Sometimes he could dig it, other times not so much. The night was young.

So was James, though maybe not very much younger than himself.

"That's me..." Nyx smiled his crooked smile, twirling his joint before sticking it between his lips. "Cheers, mate."

His wand was in his bag, which was with the coat check, and he'd not brought a lighter. Nyx lit up and took a couple of puffs to get the kelp going before passing it to his saviour.

"James?" he echoed the greeting. "Not Jim?"

It was the work of a moment to check him out. James was pretty. He had that nerdy, eager vibe going for him. Probably didn't have trouble pulling either.

Samuel laughed, someone else had called him ‘Jimmy’ in the past month[1] though the context was different enough. Nyx’s musing didn’t have the same bite, and getting a better look at his face under the ambient light led him to believe that Nyx felt the twinge of a spark.

“Thanks.” He leaned forward, brushing his fingers along Nyx palm before reaching up to take the offered joint. His Tuscan tan dungarees contrasted with his green t-shirt with a floral embellishment. Sam’s intention was to separate his work life from his personal, but he carried his work with him if not unconsciously.   

He pulled, holding the smoke in his chest and turned his head to blow out, “You come often?” Sam mumbled, holding the joint back out. There was subtle small movements in the dance, reciprocal minute touches, a lean of the body when there was some interest.

The echo's of the music downstairs bumped, vibrating the patron’s on the rooftop. “Dancing tonight?” Sam asked, forgetting about the beau he'd left. Sometimes people came by to drink and live on the peripheral of the dance floor. Some were shy friends that didn’t know what they were doing, others were wix looking for companionship overnight. Sam generally fell in the group of dancing to dance. To relieve stress. Sometimes that included more, other times it ended there.

1.	Most of Freedom and of Pleasure – April 16 2018

"Not often enough," he countered, perching on the weathered picnic table behind him. "I haunt Manchester nowadays."

The rooftop wasn't totally crowded yet and they had this little corner of it more or less to themselves. As the night wore on he knew the open air would grow increasingly tempting for those down below. Right now it was fine to pass and puff without attracting any more moochers.

Nyx gave James a cursory study, though he didn't make a show of it. The other wizard's sense of style was what gave him away as younger. Too twee for his own taste but whatever.

"Maybe, maybe..." he smiled a dopey smile, passing the joint back. "Touch of kelp to get me loose, touch of vodka to get me going. It's a balance. I dance. You here with mates?"

On the whole, he was always happy to make new friends.

“Suppose that’s why I haven’t seen you around here.” Sam slipped his lighter back into his pocket and wiped away sweat from his brow. He’d gotten in the habit of going out the past few months, of trying to keep himself busy, to turn off his brain.

He didn’t want to admit that he felt weak and needed help. That the acute trauma of finding the ghoul’s remains webbed out to other issues and his respite was becoming maladaptive. He knew he was hitting the gas when he needed to touch breaks. To slow down and stop.

Instead, Samuel Jude took the joint back from Nyx and pulled in. There was a similar thread between them, he could feel it in his bones. This wasn’t the place to ask, to discover what the thread line was. Sam blew out, “Yeah, came with a chap, but you know how it is.” He shrugged, his tight shoulders began loosening as the kelp worked it’s magic, “Vodka?" Sam handed the joint back and rolled his shoulders back. "I prefer scotch on ice myself." Conversation was easy, "What about you? Here with anyone?"

Scotch on ice, so James was here for a good time and not a quick one.

At the height of his addictions, Nyx had always been in a hurry to get high and ride the rush. He was eating light meals and pre-gaming before hitting the clubs - that was when he developed his taste for vodka, though now it was more of a treat than anything else.

"Couple of vamps," he answered, mouth twitching into a smile for no apparent reason, "only they fucked off, found themselves a bite."

Time away from the Scoundrels was me-time but he didn't mind a tag-along or two, so long as they understood one another. Ever since the attack[1] in February vampires weren't encouraged to feed on the premises so the pair disappeared with their willing neck.

Reaching for the joint, he raised his eyebrows at James. "Easy night for you issit?" Nyx wondered, curious. "Not looking to trip?"

Yes, he was off the good stuff, that sweet and transporting potation. Muse. That didn't mean he couldn't live vicariously through other people.

1.	3rd Feb - White Shirt, Now Red

t could have been described as gawking as Sam mouthed the word vampire. He’d never met anyone else who willingly wanted to be bitten like he had – and that ended...well.[1] Unconsciously, Sam touched the scar on his wrist and what came out of his mouth was a betrayal of how he felt inside, “You’re friends with vampires? That’s cool.”

A trip? He perked up.

“No, no.” He waved his hands, “I’m up for trying anything,” Sam wasn’t why he trusted someone he’d known for all of a joint, a joint they were still smoking, “I don’t have work tomorrow. What do you have?” Curiosity overcame him. He wouldn’t say no; so long as whatever it was relatively safe.

For being so straight-laced, Sam had fell down a well of experimental use in the past few months during his free time. It wasn’t frequent, but he was having a harder time saying no.

1.	(To note: A potentially inaccurate assumption)

Cool? Was it cool? Nyx had forgotten what it was like not to see vampires day-in night-in and night-out, though he doubted James would think so kindly on his arrangement with the Scoundrels.

No reason to spoil the mood. He was down to party.

"Me?" he passed the joint back to James to finish, and reached into his jacket for a little glass vial. "Just some Muse, mate[1] of mine passed me a sampler."

Val had been his dealer back when Nyx was working for Madam Maenad and they were friendly, still. He was trying to get him back into the habit but the Scoundrels didn't like the taste of Muse in his blood.

Nyx offered the vial to James, smiling his crooked smile. "I can't use the stuff," he admitted and shrugged. "I, uh, I get tested for it at my job."

Close enough.

1.	Valerius Sheldrake

Sam took the joint back from Nyx and held the roach up to his lips to pull the last bit of the joint in. He was overstimulated; could hear the crinkling of the fire on the paper, his skin felt all too sticky and his shoulders bounced to the music. He dabbed the end of the blunt into an astray on the table. Smoking and drinking lubricated the social scene.

     "Just some Muse, mate of mine passed me a sampler." Sam watched as Nyx dug into his jacket to take the potion out.

"Muse? What's that?" Sam asked, taking the offered vial from Nyx and holding it up to get a better look at it. He was naive in his experiences, and had only vaguely recalled the drug bust in the Daily Prophet[1] and more recent warning to the public[2]. Potions, specifically, weren't an area of expertise for him and something told him to trust Nyx. Perhaps an unwarranted trust?

"Will I be okay if I try it?" He popped the top of the vial.

1.	Nov 29 2012: Healer Gone Rogue: Muse Source Revealed
2.	May 8 2018: We Are Not a-Mused

He laughed, quickly reaching to cover James' hands with his own and to stopper up the vial again. Merlin's balls! What a tenderfoot. Well weren't they all at some point?

"Easy, mate!" Nyx let go, shaking his head with a grin. "It's for smoking, got to find us a pipe[1] or something. Hookah's best."

It was bliss. A part of him wanted to keep the sampler, lock himself up in his bolthole at Dorothea's and escape into the sweet surprise of someone else's slice of life.

But with that thought came the lost hours, days and weeks of his life. Temptation was great but fear was king. Ever aware of his mortality he feared the loss of time.

"Muse, it's not like kelp, you get me?" he told his new friend, rubbing the back of his neck as he pulled a face. "It's like an experience. You can't be taking Muse and be doing other things right away."

Merlin he felt old, giving this talk.

1.	Useage of Muse

Nyx’s hands covered his own to stop him from downing the potion and the touch was cool, contrasting with his warm laugh. Strangely comforting in a way he couldn’t put his finger on. At least Nyx was looking out for him, he supposed.

Sam gingerly tucked the closed-up potion in the front pocket of his dungarees. At least he’d not forget that it was in there, maybe.

“Oh, okay. I got it. So smoke it at home, I can do that.” He thought he was getting a party drug, but it didn’t really seem like that, now. Oh well. The envy and levity in Nyx’s reaction made him excited to give it a go, anyway. He wasn’t sure why he was getting it for free, but sometimes questions weren’t worth pursuing answers for.

Not now, anyway.

Sam reached out to take Nyx’s empty hand, “We’ve lost all our friends, it seems.” A sly smile appeared on his face, “I suppose you can stay up here or come back down with me to dance.” There was no harm, no foul in asking.  “I’ll get you a,” Sam paused a moment, “what’d you say? Vodka? If that helps me get you downstairs.”

There wasn't ill intent in his voice, he seemed earnest in his delivery. All Sam just wanted to do was dance the night away.

There was something cute and untried about James, something that reminded Nyx of himself. Years and years ago - before he lost time, before he ever dreamed of trying to alter himself for other people's pleasure.

"Vodka and a dance!" he clicked his tongue and smiled his lazy smile at the other wizard. "What's a bloke to do?"

Kelp always got him feeling heavy, chill. Eventually it would settle and he would want nothing more than to order a colourful cocktail, maybe sit and watch the crowd. But the high was still heady for now.

Yeah, he could dance.

"Okay." Nyx squeezed the hand that had so keenly taken his. "Let's see you move that arse."