I don't know what "morals" are, and I'm too afraid to ask

Hywel wasn't a morning person. No, he was very much a night person, thank you very much, and he owned a bar to prove it, but some nights faded into day, and he'd end up leaving a club at five in the morning, right as the sun rose. He used to have crazier party days years back–specifically in the 70s, because whoo-ee! People knew how to party in the 70s–but the 80s took a lot out of him. This decade wasn't bad, at least gay marriage was legal now; he didn't get heckled nearly as much as he used to. The music wasn't bad either, but then again, when he found the urge to party, it wasn't the music or the drinks that got him fired up.

A mixture of party drugs and someone to go home with often made his night worthwhile. During the last few hours, he had taken enough ecstasy to hallucinate, gone home with a stranger in a haze of bright lights and flirting comments, gone at it like rabbits, before fleeing as the sun rose to the sky. Shit, he ran a hand through his messy hair. It was clear he was taking a walk of shame; the black mesh-top and the skin-tight leather pants were not a morning look. Where was he? This was pretty out of the way for him, but he could recognize the Highline in the distance. Chelsea probably? He wasn't sure.

The streets were nearly empty, and for that, Hywel was grateful. He glanced to his phone–10% batter left–and decided to suck up his pride and reply to Rhiannon's 'wru?' text from last night. She was definitely going to be pissed, he was meant to watch Sylvan for the night while she was off doing whatever research she did for her potions or whatever.

'Omw home now, slept over last night, heading back from Chelsea lol'

He felt his stomach grumble, and he sighed, not exactly looking where he was going. The streets were practically empty, and accidentally bumping into someone made him jump and drop his phone.

"Shit," he hissed, glancing up to the man he had bumped into, his pupils still dilated from the sheer amount of MDMA he had taken, "ah fuck, someone's up early, eh? Sorry 'bout that, wasn' looking where I'm going." His words were still getting there.

If Hywel had expected anything, it was for the man to either mutter a 'watch where you're going, fucking drunks' or to just brush it off and leave. New Yorkers were funny like that, they minded their own business and went off their merry way. Was he dreaming? This other man wasn't just a hallucination, right? Long golden hair and a face he could say was rather attractive, yeah that was nothing new, but for a stranger out of the blue to go out of the way to give him gum? If this had been decades ago, maybe he'd be a little more self-conscious, but young people these days lived hard and played hard.

The other man must've done the same once; how else would he know to offer gum? He took his phone and the gum from the man almost immediately, still too high to doubt the man's kindness. "Oh my god, what are you?" he chuckled, "an angel? Has god finally decided that he's done with my bullshit?" Quickly unwrapping it, he popped the stick into his mouth, already chewing. As much as he had trained himself out of that teeth-grinding problem, it still felt better to be chewing on something.

"To be honest, I probably need a cab," he grumbled, glancing around the empty streets, "but can't seem to find one right now. They probably think I'm going to throw up in their car." He gave another glance to the man standing in front of him. Frankly, it might've been the drugs speaking, but damn, he wasn't bad looking, and he supposed part of taking ecstacy really was feeling quite in love with anyone and everyone he met. Broad shoulders, chiseled jaw...he probably didn't swing his way, did he? Still, it never hurt to try. He bit his lip.

"I mean, maybe if I had a chaperone to get me home," he smirked, "you know, to make sure I don't vomit everywhere, they'd let me on. If you can find me a cab and manage to get me home in one piece, I swear I'll be forever in your debt." A chuckle left his mouth. "–and I mean, if I can't make it worthwhile, I can at least get you a free drink sometime in the future."

Oh huh. The other guy was offering his apartment? Hywel knew he should be suspicious; New Yorkers weren't nice like that. Unless they had ulterior motives, of course. Still, he couldn't think of an ulterior motive that the other man could have; Hywel didn't carry much cash and well, the other guy didn't look like a murderer. Maybe he was an undercover cop or something, but at this rate, even if he was dressed in his uniform, he'd probably be able to arrest him, walking out in the open the way he was. Other than that...well, if this guy was a serial killer, Hywel really didn't care. It had been years since someone had tried to kill him, and frankly, that would be the least surprising route at this point.

Maybe if he wasn't still feeling the world go wavy around him, he'd be in a better state to make better decisions, but clearly that wasn't the case. A chuckle left his mouth. "You're not planning on kidnapping me, are you?" he smirked, "I'm not carrying a lot of money and I don't have a lot of people looking for me so I probably wouldn't get a good ransom, you know."

Hywel shrugged. Maybe this guy had the same idea in mind, and the man gave Felix a smirk, eyes roaming up and down. "Okay pretty boy, where do you live?" he chuckled, "–and please tell me your hangover cure doesn't include prairie oysters." Hywel made a face at the thought of eating raw egg from a shot glass.

Hywel wasn't particularly reassured by the other man's comment, but then again, Hywel wasn't a man who feared death. He chuckled at the other man's answer. "Central Park is a decent place to stage a kidnapping; not my kinda place though, bit too...central for that." He probably should shoot a text to Rhiannon about staying out a bit longer, but he'd do that later. His sister could be a little...overzealous when it came to making sure he was all right, and maybe he should be a bit ashamed to say that she probably had a reason to be, but right now, it didn't really matter.

"Ooh, food as well? I might as well be in heaven," the man sighed, looking content with the deal he had just landed, "well aren't you just a saint? You'd make excellent husband material; I bet all the ladies dig that."

"So is this a habit of yours?" Hywel teased, "picking up drunk strangers in the early morning and making sure they're all right? What's in it for you? You're not going to preach about the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ or something, are you?" Hywel had a cheeky grin on his face. "–because if you are, I'm Irish so you don't really need to."

He knew he was talking a lot, giving out a lot more information than he should, but that was what happened with the party drugs; he never knew when to stop. "Or you know, if you swing my way, I don't judge," he wiggled his brows with a laugh, New York city was practically gay central of the United States, if not the world anyway, it was why he settled here in the first place, "I mean not to be a total creep but you'd be a hit at any gay bar I'd visit."

Hm. The man's words really didn't reveal much about him, Hywel figured. A stranger so willing to help another and yet, so closed off about his own life; if he had been thinking clearly, he would've certainly been a lot more suspicious. People had given him less to be suspicious about and he had still avoided them, after all. Yet, in this moment, he couldn't quite find it in himself to care. Stop being so damn paranoid, he grumbled to the voice in the back of his head telling him to just go home on his own. Even Rhiannon's wrath wouldn't be as bad that bad would it?

Then again, she'd have that holier-than-thou attitude for the next few months–or worse, the next few decades–and he'd be stuck dealing with that. Yeah...maybe not.

Again, his words didn't say much. He was pretty sure the guy was giving him a 'no' but his brain wasn't exactly sure; he didn't exactly clarify what he meant by not leading him on....was this wishful thinking or just his drug-addled brain? He couldn't quite tell. Yeah, maybe he needed to just sit down; he shouldn't have taken so much if he was just going to end up going home with someone ten minutes later instead of dancing off that extra energy.

"You know, I think I do," his words were slightly slurred now, exhaustion starting to creep in, "to be honest, I could probably use a nap. I wouldn't have taken so much if I knew I wasn't going to be out the whole night...you know?" He glanced at the man again, before laughing lightly. "Yeah, pretty stupid of me I guess...haven't really gone out this hard since..." he hesitated, "I don't really remember actually."

He shrugged. "Are we almost there?" Hywel groaned, glancing at his phone. It was already 6 am. "Maybe I should just get back home...I think the metro's about to open anyway..."

He was bleary-eyed and half asleep, trudging behind the other man with barely an eye open for their surroundings. His bones could probably melt into the sidewalk right now, he thought, as he glanced up to the stranger again. He couldn't even remember if he had asked for the other man's name, or if it was just a detail in passing that he had already forgotten. Hywel wasn't exactly good with names.

His expression perked up when the man said they had arrived; he glanced up to look at the surroundings. It didn't seem like much of a residential area. The construction nearby must mean it was loud, he thought–and the next thing he knew, he could feel something smash into his chest. Wait, what was going on...?

He grunted in pain as he fell through what seemed like the boarded-up door of an abandoned building, crashing down into a ground much lower than he had anticipated. If his head had hurt earlier, this was a different level. Immediately, his blue eyes sharpened, the fear now striking up his chest. His back hurt like shit, that was for sure, and it wasn't because he had been alive for a hundred years.

Shit, what had he gotten himself into? He could see the man descending onto him, and if he wasn't feeling the adrenaline earlier, he certainly was feeling it now. Scrambling to his feet, he knew that whatever the man was, it wanted him dead. Fuck, where did his phone go? He glanced around, before spotting the cracked screen of his phone just a few feet away.

"What do you want? If it's money or something, I don't have any," he snapped, hoping to stall for time. The easy-going expression on his face all but gone as he inched towards the phone. If he could just make that emergency call...at least he wouldn't have to deal with this on his own. It was moments like this when he wished he could still cast even a single spell–his gifts had all been taken away along with the emergence of his curse.