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The Devil's Nest, Monday Night

It was Eric's very favorite week. He'd cranked up the heat in the bar just a little bit, declared it Shirtless Monday, and was now sprawled out in a pair of leather pants (level of difficulty: high) in the lounge area with a tasteful (if you squint) "Full Service Meat, Take Number for Service" sign above a ticket dispenser.

Now serving customer 134, apparently. Eric was very classy.

And very available, if you were into that sort of thing this week.

The Devil's Nest was open, the drinks were strong, and the vampire was on the prowl.

[OOC:SP warning again as I clean the entire house for a MIL visit...]

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"Can I silently appreciate or do I need to make a hose-based joke first?" Eric asked.

Travis snorted. "It's up to you, but I warn you: I have heard all the hose jokes there are to tell."

"That's disappointing," Eric said. "What if I say it in Swedish?"

". . . Then you could be saying literally anything and I would have no idea," Travis admitted. "But right now, that sounds incredibly sexy."

Eric smirked, then something incredibly dirty in Swedish.

It could be about a hose. Possibly.

(It wasn't about a hose.)

Travis had no idea. About the dirtiness or whether or not it involved hoses.

His response was a low groan. Because it was, in fact, super sexy.

Eric grinned. "Do you need something?"

“. . . Yes. Yes, I think I do. Maybe in a back room? Please tell I don’t really need to take a number.”

"But then my count will be off."

ERIC.

“You are mean.”

"But worth it," Eric promised.

Travis scowled.

. . . But took a number.

Another satisfied customer! ...wait, that sounded bad.

"Right this way," Eric said, leading Travis to the back.

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