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Sevens

The fistfull of gil was warm in Cid's hand - enough to get him into the most interesting place that had opened in Rocket Town since things had started to get back to some variation of 'Normal'.

At first he was a little wary of those flocking from Midgar to find a quiet, safe place to live - especially those who wore a little too much black and seemed freakishly cultlike - but those feelings passed after a few months and a few interesting encounters that Shera didn't ever need to know about.

So far he knew that the silver-haired triplets were not exactly nefarious, they just liked books and laying around on one another's laps with their shirts unbuttoned. Not exactly wholesome, but in a way, there wasn't much to complain about because other than certain... habits, they were model citizens.

Same for the club owner and high-roller Luxord - not exactly wholesome but that absolutely wasn't Cid's concern. Not when he had enough money to roll a few dice, have a few drinks and possibly be entertained on a more personal level by one of the lithe little gender-ambiguous dancers that the man employed.

Walking towards the outskirts of town where a tiny bit of neon lit the place from the outside, Cid was paying little attention to anything other than his usual conversation with the bouncer. If the large, intellegent man ever needed a part time job putting his vast knowledge to work as a part time rocket scientist, Cid would gladly offer. Sometimes having a five minute conversation about the inner-workings of jet engines was more stimulating than the undulations of whatever half-dressed nymphs brought him his Vodka and the occassional Dying Bastard, a drink first made for him by the owner of place and then handed to him only after he managed to roll sevens on Luxord's personal dice.

Slipping through the alleyway between shops, Cid tried to stay out of the glare of the streetlights. It was one thing to sneak out to Luxord's den and another to be seen heading out there in plain sight.

A noise caught him mid-stride.

Black.

They all seemed to like black, making pale skin even paler in the monochromatic light that filtered through the alleyway at either end.

But two of them, two of the boys and not that insane, seductive woman - two of them too overcome to bother with discretion. Two of them he thought bordered on detesting one another, though there was a fine line between lust and hate.

Cid's cigarette, unlit as his hand couldn't quite bring the lighter to it, fell silently to the cobbles below.

They must have heard him breathing.

Eyes that had too much color when everything else was shades of grey met his as bodies paused.

"Out for a stroll, Mayor?" the older of the pair asked as he opened his own eyes to see what had caught his partner's interest.

Strangely, Cid had always been under the impression that the red-haired one - the one with the tattoos of tears and the sharp tongue when not filling his mouth with a slim, shapely cock that protruded from soft, naturally blond curls - hated the blond.

"I think he sees something he likes," the red-head chimed in, barely pulling away to speak.

"What the fuck are you two doing?" Cid asked, well aware of exactly what they were doing but just a little curious why they didn't bother doing it somewhere other than an alleyway.

"What the... fuck... are you doing?" the blond one - Vexen - Cid remembered that once he'd stopped staring at the man's erection - said, his mouth twisted into a pleasured smirk. "I'd say you're sneaking out just like we are."

"Going for a damned drink," Cid replied quickly. "Fucking need one after being near-blinded. Get a fucking room."

They both laughed, and Cid just shook his head. Time for a few more little laws about public indecency...

"You know," the voice of the red-head called after Cid as he made his way past them and out of the alley, "Luxord has more than his ears pierced..."

Cid couldn't help but think his pants were a little too tight. Hopefully a brief dissertation on the transportation of chocobos as a cottage industry with the bouncer would take care of that.

Until Luxord brought him a drink, of course, and asked him to roll sevens.

He did have a fistfull of gil, after all.