You recieved a text from Striker and decided to open the message to check it. He said that the motel was undergoing some maitenance considering he was staying for long term and told you to meet him at a bar in wrath. You decided to get dressed and meet him, following the directions on how to get there. You approached the bar and opened the doors.

You walked in to see a crowded bar full of lots of imps from the wrath ring, mostly farmers who had gotten off their shifts and decided a cold beer or some shots would be a nice way to end the night. You saw Striker already at the bar, hunched over a whiskey glass. You felt your face heat up at the thought of him and the other night. You took a deep breath and tried to gain your composure as you sat next to him. He smirked.

"Good to see you finally made it. I'm afraid we won't be talking much business yet since we're in a public place, but that doesn't mean I can't buy you a drink." He gave you a wink, making it hard not to get flustered again. The bartender approached you and you glanced over the options, ordering a shot of whiskey. The bartender poured the shot and slid it across the counter to you. You lifted the glass up to your lips and threw it back, not hesitating after the day you'd had. Striker ordered another shot for himself as well.

"So...how was your day?" You asked, trying to strike up some casual conversation.

"The same as always. Been working on some planning, nothing big. You?"

"I was actually allowed to go on a mission." You said, proud of the news being delivered. Striker smirked.

"Well I'll be damned. That sounds like a reason to celebrate!" He winked as he ordered you and him both another shot. The bartender poured the shots and slid them in front of both of you as you downed the shots at the same time. You tucked some hair behind your ear, feeling a bit nervous around Striker outside of the motel setting. Things felt complicated between you and him. He was always so reserved and hard to read, but at the same time the last time you had been around him you guys had felt a connection that lead to physical means. You looked at him and couldn't help letting the thoughts of the other night creep into your head, making you blush.

"You're blushing Darlin'." He said. Your eyes went wide as you hid your face in your hands, embarrassed that he noticed. He chuckled, a grin on his face. You needed to get your mind off of him, after all, there was no way in Hell that he was going to want anything like that to happen again. You ordered two more shots of whiskey, hoping that being mildly drunk would help take your mind off of him. When you recieved the shots, you downed them without hesitation, Striker ordering one shortly behind you. You let your thoughts get the better of you as you started to feel a little tipsy.

"So we're not gonna talk about last night?" You asked, breaking the ice. Striker sighed, not making eye contact. He ordered another shot, only for himself this time. You took another as well. You scoffed.

   "Shitty at communication, just like always." Striker slammed his glass down on the counter of the bar and growled, bearing his teeth. He stood up in a hurry.

"There's nothing to talk about." He began to walk away, but the bar was really crowded, making it harder for him to leave in a rush. You ordered one more shot and downed it, desperate for some quick thinking. You walked up to the karaoke stage and requested a song, climbing up and grabbing the microphone that was being handed to you. When the music started, you saw Striker pause in his tracks. He turned around to see you up on the stage.

"You better take it from me

That boy is like a disease

You're runnin' and tryin' and tryin' to hide

And you're wondering why you can't get free."

You glanced over at Striker and realized that what you were doing was working. He leaned against the record machine, clearly intrigued by your singing.

"He's like a curse, he's like a drug

You get addicted to his love

You wanna get out, but he's holding ya down

'Cause you can't live without one more touch."

You winked at him from the stage, making him chuckle.

"He's a good time cowboy Casanova

Leaning up against the record machine.

He looks like a cool drink of water

But he's candy-coated misery.

He's the devil in disguise

A snake with blue eyes

And he only comes out at night.

Gives you feelings that you don't wanna fight

You better run for your life."

Striker couldn't help but smirk as he listened to you singing, knowing that you had picked the song on purpose.

"I see that look on your face

You ain't hearing what I say

So I'll say it again 'cause I been where ya been

And I know how it ends, you can't get away.

Don't even look in his eyes

He'll tell you nothing but lies

And you wanna believe that you won't be deceived

If you listen to me and take my advice.

He's a good time cowboy Casanova

Leaning up against the record machine.

He looks like a cool drink of water

But he's candy-coated misery.

He's the devil in disguise

A snake with blue eyes

And he only comes out at night.

Gives you feelings that you don't wanna fight

You better run for your life.

Run, run away, don't let him mess with your mind

He'll tell you anything you wanna hear

He'll break your heart, it's just a matter of time

But just remember

He's a good time cowboy Casanova

Leaning up against the record machine.

He looks like a cool drink of water

But he's candy-coated misery.

He's the devil in disguise

A snake with blue eyes

And he only comes out at night.

Gives you feelings that you don't wanna fight

You better run for your life.

Oh, you better run for your life
Oh, you better run for your life."

The crowd within the bar errupted with applause, but the only applause that mattered to you was the quiet clapping of Striker who was smirking at you from across the bar. You took a bow which was one hell of a mistake. You were starting to feel the affects of the whiskey a little stronger than before. You stumbled down from the stage and made your way through the crowd to find Striker, but as you were trying to move around people, he had disappeared from the bar. You knew of only one place that he could be and decided to head to the motel.