"That...was arguably the worst night of my life," Victor groaned aloud.
"Agreed," Simos agreed.
"Ditto," Graff nodded.
After shit had gone absolutely sideways at the warehouse district, what with the appearance of actual demons, their buyer going insane from losing a mask and fucking off without paying them the other half of the money they were owed, watching first hand as one of the top powers of the underworld getting their asses absolutely handed to them by the aforementioned demons, and then having to escape all of that in the middle of the night, Simos, Victor and Graff were all dead fucking tired.
The general sentiment of the group was the desire for either a stiff drink, a soft bed or a warm bosom, maybe all three at once, but then one of them an unexpected suggestion that sounded even better than all three of those things.
