RQ/kravitz nightclub au

"Stay for a drink?" She asks, as if she doesn't know how badly he's been wanting to go home and /sleep/ since he got here.

Kravitz is more exhausted now than at the start of his shift, even. A six hour night starting at 8pm wasn't about to fill anyone with energy, let alone during exam block.

But Raven - Ms. Raven - is his /boss/, technically, and the drink would be free, and she's-- very beautiful, and hard to resist. He nods dumbly, tiredly, and plonks down on a stool.

The bartenders are cleaning up the remnants of the dance floor, but Ms. Raven goes behind the bar because she literally owns the place, and pours liquor into glasses.

Or. Glass.

"Don't want to make unnecessary dishes for the bar crew," she smiles, the curve of painted lips revealing dimples, "better share."

"Right." Kravitz wants to clear his throat, but she always teases him for that. Says it's too much of a British habit. That he can drop that act after his shift. So he doesn't.

She takes the first sip. Whatever she's made them is a deep amber garnished with a cinnamon stick, and she leaves lipstick marks on the rim. "So. Quiet for a Friday."

Kravitz hums in agreement. "Midterms, likely. Not many students out."

She nods. Slides the glass over towards him. "You handling that okay yourself?"

He stares at the ripping liquor. "Every waking moment is a reminder that existence is painful futility and I should be studying."

That makes Ms. Raven laugh, long and lilting in the comparative quiet of the club. It stays, ringing in his ears, like the echo of the night's music. He likes making her laugh.

"God, yeah, I remember it well. Couple years ago I was right there too. If you ever need more study time, we can re-arrange your shifts or something."

Ah. Back to work talk. Kravitz raises the glass to his mouth and sips, burning spiced rum etching a path down his throat. He /does/ clear his throat, this time.

"Thank you, but I need the work. Tertiary education is a hungry beast and scholarships only extend so far."

"I'll drink to that." She takes the glass straight from his hand this time, manicured claws grazing over his knuckles for a moment. The bob of her throat as she swallows is--

With a grating shriek, Kravitz hears the back door open; the manager on shift, Sloane, holds it ajar for the remaining employees to exit. A quick glance at the clock tells him it is indeed 3:30am, and tiredness hits him all over again like a blow to the skull.

Ms. Raven offers him the remainder of the drink as she stands from the bar stool, and though he knows it'll do nothing for his lethargy, he finishes it.

"How're you getting home tonight?" She asks, eyes scanning over her phone. "Buses would have stopped by now."

Kravitz shrugs a lazy shoulder. The alcohol feels warm in his stomach, a pleasant buzz dawning slow like sunrise. "Train, then."

"And walk all the way to college? Darling, no. You'll stay at my place tonight. It's only three blocks down."

His cheeks heat, and he can't blame it solely on the booze. He… he /knows/ it's only three blocks down.

He knows, drawing on a small handful of past experiences, that they likely won't sleep until daybreak. That he has class in the morning and comes back here to work tomorrow night.

He nods, leaves the glass on the bar, and follows her.