Chapter Text
Eheeya loved visiting clubs ever since his father first took him that one fateful night.
When he moved to Solution 9, it didn’t take long for him to gravitate towards certain ones more than others. It was the choice of music and atmosphere both. He was never in it to look for someone he could accompany home or vice versa, it was always just about the smiles on everyone’s faces and the rhythm fueling their every move on the dance floor.
Then he landed that gig as a background dancer, and soon took on the moniker Dancing Green when he was recruited for the Arcadion. And despite being assured that he didn’t need to have any prior experience in fighting, levin, every match was and still is absolutely nerve-wrecking. What’s worse however is that his PR team (by the Queen, he has a whole PR team) asked him to branch out when it comes to the nightclubs he frequents and the parties he attends.
In and of itself, a simple enough task. Though what he didn’t know is that this meant that clubs would book him as something like a main event. Eheeya didn’t understand it, believing his fanbase to be a rather small and niche one.
Yet oh, how wrong he was.
The first time he went to a club his presence was requested at, he didn’t even recognize the name. No wonder, he thinks, when he walked in and the music was hardly more than the same fast-paced kick and a loud bass causing the walls to vibrate. Hard techno wasn't quite Eheeya’s preferred music choice, but far be it from him to judge something other people enjoy. He would probably be nursing a headache when the sun rose and people would only then begin to leave.
At first, he felt terribly out of place, with his clothes being something he wore expecting to enter something with a more disco-like vibe. But the people, despite his worries that he would at best be looked at like he walked into the wrong place, recognized him. Bought him drinks. Wanted to talk to him, even if he could barely make out a word they were saying, every noise drowned out by the heavy bass shaking the speaker to their core.
But gestures he understood, being beckoned on the dance floor where he belongs. Despite all odds, Eheeya enjoyed himself that night, and it would carry on this way.
With his matches garnering more attention and subsequently his popularity rising, more clubs asked for the revered party animal to bring it to their very own dance floor. Now being a more established fighter with an established kayfabe, it’s rarer to be asked to come as a VIP guest to any establishments that differ from funky and bouncy.
Rare, but not ruled out entirely.
Getting a call from his manager, Eheeya is surprised to hear that he was asked to come and party at a rock and metal club of all things. Feeling like he doesn’t belong is one thing, but sullying a venue’s reputation by appearing as clearly the wrong clientele and thus promoting it to the wrong people feels worse. Especially when it’s the club’s own idea. He tries to argue just that, debating if there’s anyone that comes to mind who’d be far better to go in his stead. Alas, it’s him they want, and so Eheeya agrees with an anxious little sigh.
He knows how passionate people get about music. He himself does, too, and so in his mind, it’s only natural to be a little uncertain when he stands in front of a dark building with a bright red neon sign that reads Skull Shaped Tramp Stamp (which sounds… adventurous!). There wasn’t much in his closet he deemed appropriate to wear, aside from a white studded leather jacket and a pair of flared jeans, which is nothing new for him. He even made the effort to ditch his signature shades for a black pair, though the gold along the sides made it just as flashy as everything else he owns.
People come, and people leave, and Eheeya still stands on the other side of the street staring at the big red sign that presents itself as such a stark contrast to the city’s various blues and purples. He agreed to this, though, and he’s a man of his word! So he puts on a cheerful smile, takes a deep breath and makes his way over at last.
The door, surprisingly, doesn’t open on its own like most do in Everkeep. It’s a heavy one, supposedly to keep the music isolated to the venue, Eheeya assumes when guitar chords are all that fill his ears as soon as it swings open. The moment the door falls shut behind him, he’s perceived by everyone close enough to have heard or seen someone enter. Eyes go wide, Eheeya hears a few gasps and then he’s swarmed. The smile he wears is now far more genuine as people greet him warmly and with joyful expressions of their own. Why was he scared again? He’s a nervous wreck every single time, and yet it’s just fine as it always is.
With the sudden crowd forming at the entrance and hindering anyone else from getting inside, the bouncer who let Eheeya in without a word now asked him to clear the stairs and properly head inside. Politely, the shetona excuses himself and does as asked, not wanting to cause problems as a supposed special guest. And first things first, he heads to the bar, where a trio of people engage with him before he even had time to sit down, let alone lean on the counter. One of them declares that she’s a huge fan, to which Eheeya replies with a toothy smile and a hand over his chest. “Oh, you flatter me! Thank you so much, the support means everythin’.” He winks, coaxing a fit of giggles out of the group. He chuckles along.
The barkeeper uses the opportunity to finally ask what his order will be, and he’s just about to ask for something fresh and fruity, he glances at the menu floating on a screen to the side, offering only hard long drinks, beers and shots. “Ah, hmm…” he knows this isn’t the kind of music he’ll be able to lose himself in so easily, so getting something to help him loosen up isn’t such a bad idea. “I’ll have a mojito.” Eheeya turns back to the barkeeper with another kind smile.
“And a Lindblum Mule for me.” A deep voice requests from behind Eheeya, the sudden presence causing his tail to twitch. The stranger then sits down to his left when the barkeeper nods and turns around to make the drinks. What a huge man, Eheeya thinks, registering only a massive arm in his peripheral. Just another great reason to wear sunglasses even when there’s no sun.
“Dancing Green, right?” The man with the deep voice asks, and Eheeya’s head tilts to look up at him, still with that signature smile. “The one and only! And who do I have the pleasure of- THE TYRANT?” He immediately clasps a hand over his mouth, the music luckily being loud enough that only the group of fans to his other side and the barkeeper heard him. He hopes. And, of course, the man whose name he just yelled through the strangely named venue.
His face is burning from embarrassment at losing his composure like that. That’s the grand champion of the Arcadion who just casually ordered a drink, sat down next to him and wanted to have a conversation on his night off from fighting. And of course, Eheeya had to make it seem like something crazy when he’s well aware the Tyrant is just a man behind the grandeur and weapons. A man who’s looking down at him with piercing, icy purple eyes. And then he grins.
Eheeya clears his throat and drops his hand from his mouth, doing his best to calm his racing heart from that self-induced shock. And the Tyrant doesn’t say anything either, which just makes the moment all the more torturous. All he does is place an arm on the table and lean his head onto his hand, eyes transfixed on the new fighter. Say something already…
“Uh. You come here… often?” Fine, then Eheeya will speak.
“Hm?” Tyrant gives him an upwards nod, pointing to one of his long ears and then shaking his head. “You come here often??” Eheeya repeats, louder this time so his voice will carry over the music, and the Tyrant huffs, seemingly amused. Now what’s so funny?
“I do. Never seen you here though. Are you sure this is your scene, Party King?” The Tyrant asks calmly, thanking the barkeeper when he slides his drink over. Eheeya blinks up at the champion behind his sunglasses, though obviously it’s not visible, so he just looks like he’s staring while the Tyrant swipes his card over a panel to pay. Is the grand champion suggesting Eheeya should leave? He’s not wrong, this being neither his aesthetic nor his choice of music. But the people clearly enjoyed his presence. One even declared herself a fan of Dancing Green’s! So, surely, he can’t be that bothersome of a presence in the club.
Just as he’s about to answer something super smooth and confident, the Tyrant’s attention is demanded by a bunch of his own fans, practically begging for a picture and his autograph. All Eheeya hears is the word ‘tattoo’ and that tells him more than enough about the devotion they have for the Tyrant. He really is treated like a king, worshipped and praised…
Eheeya turns on the stool to face the bar again, noticing a drink in front of him complete with a coaster beneath. “Oh!” Seems he was too lost in his thoughts for a moment to even notice that his drink had been served to him, but this should help to feel a little less like a fool. He reaches into his jacket to pull out his wallet, but the barkeeper shakes his head at him. Ah. By agreeing to be here, they probably agreed to let him drink for free. Some venues do it, some don’t, but he never minds paying others for the service.
To his surprise, however, the man behind the bar instead pointed somewhere. Following that direction stands none other than the Tyrant, currently busy with both arms around a woman respectively and a smile on his lips while someone is taking pictures. Between the flashes of the camera, Eheeya could swear the grand champion is looking his way every now and then.
…Did the Tyrant just buy him a drink?