The Phouka kept up, crunking and twerking and...whatever he was trying to do. It wasn't elegant or coordinated but he was having a good time doing it. When they left the club and the thumping music faded behind a closed door he moved close to tower over Winter.

"You are glittery and wet," he said, staying close enough to touch and grope and wiggle as he liked. "We should bathe when we get home. I am sticky."