Everett is so fucking bored.
It’s the only thought that permeates his poor, under-stimulated mind as his hooves begin to move upon their own accord. It’s a certain sort of auto-pilot that his body has taken to these days, one that carries him from his apartment and through the familiar back doors of the club that’s become basically a second home to him. Not even the bouncers dare give him a second as he weaves his way through all of the dancers still...
