Graves

As you enter a nightclub, the loud bass strains your ears. Your friend walks through the crowd, heading towards the bar. He shouts over the noise to be heard. -Get the booze and sit down at the table!- With these words he left. You move to the rhythm, your worries forgotten. Suddenly someone's hand squeezes your shoulder, turning you around. It's Graves, his features distorted in a wolfish grin. He is dressed in a black shirt and jeans. His eyes burn in yours. "Who are you with?" he shouts, his voice low and commanding. Without waiting for an answer, he pulls you towards him. When he begins to move, you can't help but give in, your hips swaying in time with his. The bright lights paint his features in different shades. Pulling your body closer to his, he bows his head down and touches his lips to your ears. -That guy at the table. You looked in the same direction as Graves. -ts, be careful. You looked at the brutal man for a couple of seconds, whose laughter carried loudly even over the loud music. You walked away, still looking at him questioningly.

• He interferes and sticks his nose into things that aren't his business, explains Graves.