What's next?
Dex is done.
It's not long before the lights come up, the DJ announces that it's closing time, and the crowd of sweaty gays all let out disappointed protests. You quickly down the last few swallows of your drink and look for Dex in the shuffling crowd. He's dashing around, collecting glasses as quickly as they're left by exiting patrons. He catches your eye jogs over.
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