Loud music and maybe nine different colognes hung in the air. He could barely hear himself think over the roar of conversation, but thinking wasn't really important here. He just needed to get noticed. He almost felt bad for whoever decided to make a move. Almost. They're just rubes. That's what he'd tell himself.

It hadn't taken long to catch someone staring at him from the edge of the dance-floor. Blue eyes, red v-neck shirt and a cute smile. Quick smiled back and beckoned him over to the bar.

"Hi. How come you're not dancing? Nick, by the way."

"James. I didn't come here to dance."

Men are stupid, uncomplicated creatures to begin with - the fact that most of them who frequent the club scene are single and looking? Added bonus. Quick made a little more small talk, taking only a few sips from the beer Nick had bought him. He needed to keep his wits about him. Nick could drink himself stupid, though, if he'd wanted to. It wouldn't have mattered. Nick was hooked. Less than an hour after showing up at the club, Quick was leaving. Headed to Nick's place.

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Desire had a feel to it - like air being drawn into lungs after holding your breath. Even as Quick fed off it, it felt like it wanted something from him.

Nick must have liked him... he certainly tried hard. As he softly snored, Quick reached down to grab his jeans. Nick's jeans. After one wistful glance back at the sleeping man, Quick relieved him of his wallet. Nick would probably believe he left it at club. Quick got dressed and quietly left Nick behind, none the wiser.

Quick eventually made his way back to Sacramento. Rocklin's club scene probably wouldn't remember him, but better safe than sorry.