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𝙏𝙤𝙭𝙞𝙘—𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪.

Hypnos strode in the expensive looking reception area. The top selling awards of the many famous artists they had singed under their label decorated every wall on sight. His military boots resonated on the polished marble floor with every step he took, strolling casually towards the front desk like he owned the damned place.

That was the kind of energy Hypnos had, his presence filled every room. Heads turned to look at him, but he didn't give a fuck about others. Not anymore. Tossing the bud of the cigarette on the floor he extinguished the remnant and leant an elbow over the crystal desk, chin resting on his fist.

Hypnos let his gaze roam all over the receptionist, cocky smirk in place as his deep sensual voice filled the silence, "you're too hot to be hidden behind a desk, sweetheart."

Before he could work his magic, an exasperated Asher cleared his throat and stepped beside him, "Petryaev and Rockford, we have a meeting with Mrs. Prather."

The girl smiled up at Hypnos winking before she nodded at Ash and started typing, after confirming their identities, she put two visitor passes over the desk and slip a piece of paper under the one she slid towards him. Hypnos shoved both in his back pocket as he tapped the now empty surface with his fingers, "later, sexy."
"Was that necessary, man?" Asher complained, as if he didn't know his best friend at all.
"What? I finally made up my mind about what evil we're signing our souls over to and can't even have a nice time about it? When did you become such a pussy, Ash?"

Once the lift stopped at floor 19, they strode forward as an united front. They were signing their record contract, or rather, Hypnos was. It was an important moment for them, for dysfunctional. Yet, all that was in Hypnos mind was to leave as soon as possible so he could get the party started.

Soon. Very, soon.