PREY

:05:

TiO - ZAYN

We walk into the casino. Bright lights, flashing strobe lights too. Multiple fancy people are drinking cocktails and alcohol at the bar. Sweaty bodies everywhere, dancing up on each other and grinding like their lives depended on it. Sophisticated and well put together women, were making out in various corners as the music masked the sound of lips smacking together. I felt sick to my stomach. So much touching, so many people performing inappropriate actions on one another. Groping, grabbing asses, kissing any place they could get their lips on. Marks and bruises all over their smooth like skin. It made me want to hurl, seeing bodies so close together. Why would people want to do such inappropriate things, for whatever reason it was nasty looking. We walk over to a group of men, and one woman who seemed drunk and unstable. She was hanging onto one of the men, giggling and blabbing as we settled next to the men. They all were casually talking, not paying attention to us, only one turns to see us.

"Well, well, well. You finally show up Rory." A man with a grey jacket announces, causing the others to look in out direction. The one who spoke has black hair that looked gelled back, like most of their hair was. He was wearing tight black pants, that could show any crease from his legs and muscles. His calves shown through his pant legs and you couldn't help but stare. He was wearing dress like shoes, more professional looking than Charlies. Charlie smiles at the man, and leans over to shake his hand. The man grabs it and does so.

"I'm terribly sorry mates, but I came when duty called." His accent sounded exactly like it should've. It sounded like a British man's accent, but more clear and cut. You could understand every word he said. Was the real Rory Triston British? Is that why he was speaking this way, but there was one thing. Where was the real Rory, what did they exactly do with him to keep his mouth shut? They probably killed him, the voices screeched. I didn't want to think that, an innocent man dead so we could sneak in and steal from his buddies. It was not right, so I didn't want to think about it. I just wanted to get out of here, get the money and go.

"Oi, but who's the lady with you?" Another man's voice was grugly. It sounded muffled and older. The man had seemed to look like he dyed his hair a gray like color. He was wearing glasses that came to the brim of his nose with a lip ring. He wore all black with work scuffed boots. He was the most down dressed of the group. Not that I was complaining. His stare was held on me, as the others of the group looked at me as well. The man licked his lips, his eyes darting to where my chest area was. I felt humiliated. I felt like an item and it was sickening. If it wasn't for the plan, I would've killed him for looking at me in such a disgusting manner. Charlie looks back at me and smiles, taking both of my hands in his. I felt heat rise up through my face. All he did was hold my hand and yet I felt like I was burning up.

"Yeah, where'd you get a lovely think like that?" Another man spoke, his voice coming out loud and irritating. All of their voices had different sound qualities, but the man who spoke looked older than all of them. Maybe his late 20's it seemed, almost 30. He also had his hair looking like it was dyed gray. Glasses as well with all black clothing, even his shoes. They all stared at me in awe, except for the girl who was scowling at me through red eyes. She looked overly drunk and wasn't happy that all the men she had were looking at me.

Charlie's smile turns into a full fledged grin, "This is Layla, my beautiful fiance." Charlie winks at me, my face feels like it's going to melt from the heat. Before I burn up, I remove my hands from his grasp and look towards the men.

I clear my throat, "A pleasure to meet you all, gentlemen."

"Since when are you into marriage old boy?" One of the men raises his glass, and chugs down his drink. His sigh was unsettling as he lets the remains of the drink float in his glass. Do men ever have any manners?