[past] Where the wild and weird roam

Bastien's lips curled into a smirk as he watched Maika, taking in her restrained demeanor. He could see the flash of defiance in her eyes before she concealed it, and that amused him. It always did. He thrived on the tension, the subtle dance of power that others played so poorly in his presence. He didn't need to raise his voice or resort to theatrics; his mere presence was enough to unsettle most people.

He glanced at the whiskey bottle she presented, then back at Maika, his gaze lingering just a moment longer than necessary. Ah, yes, that will do nicely, he drawled, his tone dripping with faux politeness. He reached out, his fingers brushing hers briefly as he took the bottle from her hand, the contact cold and deliberate.

I’ll take the first glass, Bastien continued, pouring himself a generous amount. He didn’t look away from Maika as he took a slow sip, savoring both the taste of the whiskey and the discomfort in the air. It wasn’t the best he’d ever had, but that wasn’t the point. He wanted her to know that her efforts, while adequate, were inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

Turning slightly, he offered the bottle to the closest of his so-called friends without looking at them. Share it around, boys. And do try to enjoy it—it’s not every day you get to drink something halfway decent, he said, his voice tinged with mockery.

As his followers eagerly took the bottle, he leaned back against the bar, still watching Maika with that same predatory gaze. Tell me, my dear, he began, his voice low and dangerous, do you enjoy working here? In this... charming little hole? Or do you dream of something more? He tilted his head slightly, as if genuinely curious, but his eyes betrayed the cruelty behind his words. Bastien wasn’t interested in her answer—he was interested in how she would respond to the trap he’d just set.

@Maika Arainai