Modravé De Costa Lopez is the name haunts the underground world, and the name that is engraved into the illegal system like a tattoo on an idiotic teenager. He runs one of the most powerful Mafia organisations known to man and is so powerful, he cou...
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Cove is a smart boy.
Cove is a very smart boy.
He would never, EVER take an illegal substance, drink an irresponsible amount of alcohol, and most-definitely, travel to Alberto City while doing so.
Cove is just not that irresponsible.
Because, doing the said things have consequences, and those consequences aren't always in ones favour. Such as a killer hangover, waking up somewhere you don't know or even finding oneself in amongst a group of Mafia Men - one being somebody you have previously come across before.
Nope. Cove would never do such a thing.
Cove is a good boy.
However, sometimes, a good boy becomes bad. Hence why he is sat amongst a group of Mafia Men whilst having his hand held by one specific man, all while still being completely dazed by whatever he had consumed prior to the current situation he's found himself in now.
There is no English being spoken, no eyes being met with his own and his knees are a little grazed and sore from his little tumble to the ground.
Whilst sat, he begins to think about what happened. Luck is not on his side at all - how does he manage to fall at the feet of the man he met at the very same club he's in now, but a few weeks ago?
That smirk plastered on the guys face when Cove peered up was teeth-grindingly agitating. And those cheeky words that spilled out of his mouth a few heartbeats later. "Falling at my feet now, are we?"
... looking up with his mouth hanging wide open and his eyes wide, he recognises the voice and sees the face belonging to the man called Modravé whom he'd come across all those weeks ago.
His deep voice is almost lost amongst the loud music but Cove manages to catch it. "Are you okay? Jesus.." Cove - still in shock - mumbles a few inaudible words before Modravé rolls his eyes and pulls Cove up from the grimy floor of the club.
Modravé stares into Cove's eyes with a frown. He immediately realises that Cove is completely drugged up - his eyes a blown wide, his chin and mouth smeared with saliva and sweat coating his entire face like a second skin.
"Such a silly little boy you've always been, Cove".
Cove eyelids soon begin to droop as Modravé picks Cove up from the back of his thighs, holding him with one arm while the other holds the back of Cove's head into his shoulder so that he doesn't fidget.
Modravé knew from first glance that Cove was off his face on lord knows what. Such a irresponsible little thing. Modravé proceeds to carry Cove to the club's VIP bathroom which to located by the VIP rooms round the back. He kicks the door open, before kicking it again to shut it.
Two of Modravé's men stand outside the door, guarding it and also guiding people away when they try to enter.
Modravé plonks Cove onto the toilets sink, nearly knocking the fake rose basket off the side as its full with different confectionaries. "Lean against the mirror", orders Modravé as he presses a hand against the younger boys chest in order to get him to lean backwards.
