It took more than a moment for Eric to determine that he wasn't in some awful nightmare. The tired-eyed girl before him wasn't a figment of his imagination. She was here.

"Hi," she smiled, spotting him almost instantly. She met the room's gaze shyly, fiddling with the lining of her pyjama top.

Eric stood from his chair so suddenly that he almost tripped up on his own feet. She didn't belong here, in the dark interior of the room, under the ungodly sights of the Billy Boys.

"What are you doing here?"

When she started towards him, he rushed forward to meet her, to keep her out, to keep her safe.

"Nice to see you too," she joked with a cocked brow. "You sent me a message?"

"No, no, I didn't."

"Yeah, you did, on the," she dangled an arm behind her, "the little electronic wall thing."

When he met her explanation with blank confusion, she searched his face for a sign that this was an odd joke, a prank of some sort.

"You said... you said you wanted to see me... Did you not want me to come?"

Lost for words, Eric hunched his back in attempt to hide her frame. He shook his head,

"Evie, I didn't- someone must have-"

"Is that the bird from the photo?"

"Aubs, I thought you said she wasn't here!"
"Hallo, gorgeous!"

At the sound of the hollers, Evangeline blushed, tucking the longest of her curls behind her ear.

Eric wasn't sure when Tom had left his seat and sidled alongside him, but, sure enough, he'd found his way to Evangeline's side, and was placing a crystal glass of something brown and freshly-poured in her hands. She gave him her thanks and looked to Eric for an introduction.

"No prob, beautiful," Tom purred with roaming eyes, "Auby, are you going to introduce us to our new guest?"

"No, Tom, I'm not," Eric said with flared nostrils, taking the drink from her hand and blocking Tom's view with his back. "Evie," he hissed, "Evie, you've got to go back upstairs."

Her brows wrinkled in confusion. "Eric you told me to come down. Is something wrong? Why are you being so weird?"

"Forgive him," Tom said, find his way around Eric's hunkered stature, "I think beautiful women make us all go a bit weird. I'm Thomas – we sort of met earlier, through the window."

Watching Tom elicit her smile and gracious response as others gathered around to ogle and introduce themselves, Eric began to seethe. He wished that he could tell her everything right there – tell her that men like these weren't good men; that he knew because he used to be one – but he couldn't find the words. Who had told her to come down here?

"Evangeline." Eric called her name again, sternly, but his hissing was drowned by the sounds of Tom and Milo and the others who'd gathered. With their charming laughs and false gentility, Eric's voice was lost.

"So, Evangeline," Tom smiled, "Auby tells us you've got Irish blood?"

Eric felt his heart plummet.

Tom cast a foul look at him. His browbeating grin made his threat as clear as day. Back off, Auby, or I'll tell her what you said about her.

"Yeah! Well, my mum's from Derry."

"Ah, your mum!" Milo joined in, grinning like a Disney villain, with wicked eyes and thin lips. "So, is she the one who gave you those gorgeous... eyes?" Evangeline laughed, the tucked strand falling from behind her ear as she bowed her head to hide her blush.

Eric snarled, his blood boiling as Milo's eyes dipped down to Evangeline's 'eyes', greedy and leering. Milo only raised his hands in smug surrender, rather enjoying himself.

"So, Evangeline from Derry," Tom spoke, his dark voice always heavy with a hint of menace, "tell us about yourself. What do you like to do?"

"You don't have to answer, Evie," Eric said harshly, training his glare on Tom.

Evangeline didn't understand. She squinted up at him, her narrowed eyes asking the question he couldn't answer. What's wrong?

"Um," she gnawed at her lower lip, "I don't know. I like music, I guess?"

"No! Really? You know, we're quite big music fans too. Has Auby ever taken you to The Gaslight Club?"

Those three words – harmless on their own – made Eric's mouth dry with panic. Fear spread throughout his body like icy fire.

Every year before this one, it had become tradition to celebrate Eric's birthday with a long night at The Gaslight Club – and it certainly wasn't for the music.

A cabaret-style gentleman's club in central London, The Gaslight Club was a velvet-walled establishment, where scantily clad women teased and twirled for flimsy banknotes. Eric and the rest would happily oblige, tossing hundreds, sometimes thousands, their way, with crude, arrogant jokes to accompany. It wasn't the sort of place that Eric, as he was now, would ever want to revisit. Nor was it the sort of place that he wanted Evie to know he'd been such a frequent customer of. He found his whole body taut, torn between his fear of the boys' growing proximity to Evie, and the terror of the picture of him they threatened to paint.

With bated breath, he watched Tom and Milo toy with his past, and wondered what it would take to put an end to the torment.

Evangeline shook her head, looking to Eric with shy excitement. "No, I don't think so. Is it, like, a nightclub?"

Milo tutted facetiously,

"Yes, sort of. Fab music, lots of dancing. Can't believe you've never taken her, Aubs."

Eric pulled her into his side. "We don't go out much."

Evangeline laughed, hopelessly unaware of the menace that loomed in the room, and the dark intentions staring her in the face. "I mean, I'd be happy to give it a go! I don't think I'm much of a nightclub girl, though."

"See, Auby, she's up for a good time!" Milo said, his tongue swiping his bottom lip as he eyes began to wander again, "I think you'd fit right in..."

"We could always take you," Tom shrugged. Evangeline's innocent eyes twinkled.

"Wait, for real?"

"For real. It'd be our pleasure. Wouldn't it, Milo?"
"Oh, absolutely."

With a darkened stare, he took a step towards her, resting his hand on the small of her back as he spoke into her ear.

"We could make a night of it. Plenty of music for you to dance to. We'd make you the TGC guest of honour..."

At the sight of Tom's hand on her, with his face so close that his curls could touch her cheek, Eric's imagination began to swarm with images of his Evangeline, as maltreated and objectified as the girls at the club, dirtied by the boys' gazes. The picture was all too vivid, and it made him sick to his stomach.

Yanking her away from Tom's touch, he led her out of the swarm and back to the elevator doors.

"Eric, what the-!"

"Come on, Auby, we're only having a bit of fun!"

He held her by the shoulders. "Evie," he spoke, his voice strained and eyes pleading, "you can't be down here. Go back upstairs. Please."

He could hear her mind ticking as she considered; he watched it in her creasing brows.

"Okay." She paused, stopping herself for a moment before lowering her voice and speaking again. "Will... will you be up soon?"

Hearing the jeers behind him, Eric shut his eyes with a clenched jaw,
"Soon," he said, as quietly as he could, not wanting his promise sullied by their ears.

How had he landed himself here? In any other circumstance, those words coming from her, so soft-eyed, would go straight to his heart. But the thought that consumed him was getting her out, away from their disgusting leers and dangled secrets.

She started to leave, and Eric felt the descent of heavy relief, but she turned to speak once more.

"Hey, when we get back... do you wanna see that new play at The Old Vic? The one on Thursday?"

"Yes, sure," he huffed, "sounds good. I'll see you later, okay?"

Without meeting his eyes again, she nodded, pressed for the elevator, and disappeared.

"Aw," Tom chuckled, "I think someone needs to be tucked in."

Eric ignored him, making a B-line for the bar with clenched fists. When the room sounded with laughter, Tom went on.

"If you're not up to the task, Aubs, I'll happily go up there and..."

Eric didn't let him finish his sentence – or take a sip of the drink he was raising to his lips, for that matter. Knocking the glass clean out of his hand, Eric listened for the sound of shattering before snatching Tom's chin in his white-knuckled hand.

"Go on, finish that sentence, Tom. Finish it and I'll snap your fucking neck."

Releasing his face with just enough force to leave imprints on Tom's cheeks, Eric stalked back over to the bar to drown his anger.

"Phwoar, somebody's had too much to drink..."
"Pour him some more!"

Before he could do anything about it, Eric's glass was full of something he wasn't even sure he could identify. Without question, he knew, in the deep recesses of his heart, that he had no business here – not with this lot, not drinking more than he already had – but some potent mixture of cowardice and tiredness and stupidity paralysed him. For the hours that followed, Eric only got up to refill his glass.