Killian Hopper
"Even if you needed a babysitter, it wouldn't be me." He flipped up the visor and eased the car on to the turnpike, closing the garage door behind him. As they coasted, he shifted into a higher gear and sat back, letting the car accelerate down the mostly empty road without any hesitation, seeming to know exactly where he was going. He relaxed with one hand on the steering wheel, and a serious look to his face. Once on the Strip, he seemed to sit up a little, passing by luxury casino-hotel after luxury casino-hotel, a few of them his, but his eyes never cast away from the chaos of the streets. Las Vegas lit up like a Christmas tree at night, the sidewalks burdened with partygoers of all ages.
Near the end of the Strip, where the streets get slightly quieter, though not by much, Killian pulled the car into a circular drive and diminished it to a halt in front of a lavish club, with the word 'MINT' backlit in malachite green lights. Two bouncers in tuxedos stood out front with clipboards, and the line approaching the doors was enormous, wrapping well around the building and down the Strip.
The engine was left engaged as he slid from the seat, passing the valet boy a hundred-dollar bill as he passed, glancing back for Lucy to follow him to the front doors, skipping the line. The bouncer, with a polished bald head and a neck as thick as a quarter back's forearm lifted his lip back.
"Mr Hopper," he said, stepping aside so they could enter.
"Welcome to Mint," Killian mentioned to Lucy off-handedly as they walked through the front doors, past the line, and into a narrow, dark hallway vibrating with the bass of music. The hall emptied into a large room with a square bar at its heart, and a DJ stage to the far back. Inside of Mint, it was like dancing on Northern Lights; beneath the dry-ice smoke swirled an array of blues, greens, and golds. The music played over the dance floor as if it had fused with the bodies. It was a rich person's club, there were no two ways about it.
Men were well-dressed in suits, sipping cocktails with diamond encrusted watches, flashing keys to expensive import cars. The women were starved skinny, model pretty, and all in heels that gave them four, five inches of height.
Lucy didn't want to be babysit, and Killian didn't want a babysitter, so he didn't hesitate to head straight up to the bar, his arm hooking around a pretty woman sitting on the edge of the bar in a slinky red dress with pristine black skin.
"It's been a hot minute, Amaya," he said to her with a grin.
"Killian!" the woman laughed, throwing her head back and sweeping her eyes over his face, hesitating on Lucy for a moment, before returning to him. "A celebratory body shot for your return?"
"Mm, how could I say no?"
The woman slid off the bar, her heels hitting the floor as she leaned back across the top. Wearing a dress, she hiked it up to her bra, revealing black, lacy underwear, before throwing herself back across. A bartender placed a shot glass on to the woman's bare stomach, right in the nook of her belly button, and spilled a healthy shot of whiskey into it.
"Bottom's up, sweetheart," the woman laughed, throwing her head back as Killian placed his arms to either side, taking the shot, and dropping the glass from between his teeth on to the bar. He pressed a kiss into the woman's side, right below her ribcage before rolling to his back, elbows propped up against the bar.
"Lucy, how do you feel about a body shot?"