Morning everyone :) switching points of view here (most of it is going to be told from Armin's anyway, I just really liked having the prologue from Jean's) set on the same night, just a couple of hours later. Hope you enjoy 3

The lights in the dressing rooms, especially the shitty bulbs around the grimy mirrors, are not flattering at the best of times but, getting this close a look, Armin thinks he looks like shit. Underneath the stage make-up he has huge dark circles under his eyes and his hair could really do with a wash but no one would have seen from the stage. He's also pretty sure he has a tiny cut on his lip as well and it feels as if he's got some dry skin – probably an allergic reaction to the shitty, cheep washing power – forming on the back of his neck where his t-shirt rubs. Again at least it can't be seen from the stage. That would make the tips go down...

He changes out of the skin tight jeans and into a much more comfy pair of tracksuit trousers and pulls an old band t-shirt on. They may be old and ratty but at least they're comfortable. He sighs to himself before taking a packet of make-up wipes out of his bag, pulling one out and scrubbing all the make-up off. Not that he ever puts much on, just enough to not look like death under the lights and with it gone he feels as if he looks even worse but he's done for the night so a part of him doesn't care. He runs a brush through his hair and starts to tie up the slightly longer front part into a tiny ponytail. Shoving his brush back into his bag he sighs again trying to forget, once again, that this is his life.

"Arrrrrrrrrmiiiiiiiiiiiiiin!" a loud voice sings as the door to his dressing room slams open. Armin looks up into the mirror to see Ymir standing in the doorway beaming at him.

"Hey Ymir," he replies giving her a small smile. She is one of the few other dancers who calls him by his actual name and he offers her the same courtesy (mostly because he can't get her to stop).

"Saw your set tonight," Ymir says adjusting one of the cups of her bra, "looking hot up there!"

"Thanks," Armin says rolling his eyes.

"Nice man-bun," she teases, skipping over to Armin and giving the end of the ponytail a gentle tug.

"Thanks..." Armin says. He's not quite sure whether to take that as a compliment or not as there are a lot of douche-bags who rock that style but it's a good way for regulars not to recognising him as his face looks completely different without the usual frame of blond.

"So how's things?"

"Fine," Armin replies with a shrug.

Ymir hops up onto his dressing table, her long shapely legs dangling over the edge. "You sure?" she asks. "You seem a little on the pale side is all."

Armin gives her a smile and shakes his head. "I'm fine, just a little tired."

Ymir studies him through narrowed eyes for a moment and Armin prays that she'll drop it. He doesn't feel like talking about the fact that he's hit that time of the month when rent is due, bills are hitting final notices and he has to pick up extra shifts taking his clothes off and dancing for lecherous old pervs. It's enough to make anyone go quiet every once in a while...

"So you done for the night?" Ymir asks and Armin is very glad that she has decided to drop it.

"Yeah," Armin says chuckling. "Got called in early to entice new people in and warm up the crowd... not like anyone was there to watch."

"True," Ymir says. "No one comes in here before nine. You going home to spend time with the boyfriend?"

"Yeah," Armin says looking at his watch. It is half past midnight, earlier than he would usually be leaving and he is grateful for that. "He should be home by now."

"How's it all going living with him?"

"It's great."

"You getting by?" she asks.

"Yeah."

"You sure? I know shit's expensive at the moment, especially now the economy's in the crapper. I'm looking for something else to tie me over for the next month of so."

Armin opens his mouth to make some kind of excuse for not giving a better answer but he's saved by a stony faced Annie sticking her head round the door.

"Hey Freckles, stop gossiping like a bitch and get on stage. You're up!"

Ymir laughs. "Always ready for fun as ever Titan." She turns to Armin and winks at him. "See you tomorrow Sweetness."

"See you tomorrow," he says as Ymir jumps off the dressing table and saunters out of the room giving Annie a smirk and a smack on the arse as she passes. Annie glowers at her.

"Bitch," she mutters under her breath.

"You okay Annie?" Armin asks after a pause. She's another that doesn't mind him calling her by her real name instead of her stage name but if anyone else did she'd probably end their life. She turns her signature glower onto him.

"I had to take time out of my break to come get her sorry ass," Annie says.

"Sorry.

"'s fine," she mutters, shaking her head. Armin can tell it isn't but he doesn't push it. "You off?"

"Yeah," Armin says as he pulls on a hooded jacket that is way too big for him, zips it up and slings his bag over one of his shoulders.

"See you tomorrow then."

Armin smiles. "Have a better rest of the night."

"I got a two fifty tip, that's the best it's going to get."

"Well I'll see you tomorrow then."

Annie disappears and Armin leaves his dressing room, turning the light off and shutting the door as he goes. All he wants to do is get home and fall asleep – he's exhausted and more than a little grumpy. So it really doesn't help his mood when he turns a corner leading to the back exit so he can sneak out unnoticed and finds himself face to face with his boss Erwin Smith. If he could have doubled back and made his escape that way then he would have done but Erwin looks up from the document he's reading at just the wrong moment.

He smirks when he sees him. "Ah Armin, I'm glad I caught you." The one person in this building he wishes would call him by his stage name.

"Yes Mr Smith?"

"You can dispense with the formalities," Erwin says taking a step closer, that Armin has to actively not step away from, "it's just the two of us out here."

"Okay... Erwin." The words taste like ash in his mouth and stick in his throat. He knows exactly why Erwin wants him to call him by his first name and it puts him on edge.

"I have your tips for this evening," Erwin says holding a small brown envelope, with 'Azure' written in looping cursive on the front, out to him.

Armin takes the envelope and, trying not to look too eager, he opens it and takes a look inside. Mostly notes – nothing huge – and a few coins that, added to the small bit of change in his pocket, might pay for a bus home. He closes the envelope and pockets it. It's probably a good thing he's run into Erwin now – it's relatively private but there's still a chance that someone can come round the corner and interrupt them. Just ask him now while the going's good...

"Mr Smith..." No! That won't get you what you want! "Erwin... would it be possible to have a slight advance on my wages? My rent is due soon and I want to make sure I have enough money to pay it."

Erwin chuckles and shakes his head. "You know I don't play favourites Armin." Bullshit!

"It's just a few days," Armin pleads. There's no point, he's not going to say yes...

"If you want to get more money then you're going to have to earn more tips." Erwin tells him.

"Okay," Armin says and forces himself to smile but it probably looks more like a grimace.

"There are other ways that you can earn money besides dancing," Erwin says, his lecherous smirk spreading.

Armin knows exactly when he means by that. He knows exactly what he means and there is no way in hell he's going to go through with it. Dancing and stripping is one thing entirely. He gives Erwin a tight lipped smile, trying his best to be polite.

"Thank you for your time," Armin says and goes to leave but before he can Erwin's arm blocks his path. Armin looks up into his icy blue eyes and he instantly wants to run in the opposite direction.

"If you're really desperate for money then I'm sure that you and I can come to some kind of arrangement," Erwin says as the hand not blocking his path cups his chin, tilting his face up and Armin suddenly feels sick. Sleeping with his boss for an advance on his wages isn't a route he wants to go down. It will just set a president that he's fine with fucking for money.

"I... um..." How can I get out of this without saying a flat yes or no?

Thankfully for Armin he is saved by the deep familiar tones of one of the security guards. "Excuse me Mr Smith can I borrow you for a second?" Gunther asks. "There's some punk kid with no ID trying to get in again."

"Of course," Erwin says, his eyes still fixed on Armin for a second, lingering on the expanse of neck not quite covered by the hoodie. He removes his hands from the wall and Armin's chin and strides over to Gunther. "Think over what I said Armin."

Armin stays rooted to the spot until he is sure the two of them have gone before he takes his opportunity and darts away down the corridor and out the back exit. He leans his back against the door once he is outside and takes a deep breath of the night air. A shiver runs through him and it has nothing to do with the temperature outside. He pushes himself off the door and goes over to the bus stop halfway down the road from the club. Really he should save the money and just walk home but the less time he spends alone with his thoughts tonight the better.

The fact that this is just his life now – staving off the advances of his pervert boss and scraping for money at the end of each month just to survive – when he had had such a promising future always stings. An overwhelming urge to slam his fist into something hard grips him but there is nothing to hand so he pushes it down where it can begin to eat away at him.

"Excuse me..."

The soft voice only serves to add fuel to the fire and Armin rounds on the speaker, ready to snap at them to leave him the fuck alone, but the words die in his throat and the anger leaves him in a rush. Standing behind him is a tall man – taller than he is by at least a head and shoulders – with an undercut, Armin can't quite tell the colour due to the orange of the street-lights but he would guess at mousey-brown, and the most stunning face Armin has ever seen. His heart stops for a moment as the man smiles at him.

"Hi," he says.

"Hello," Armin says a little unsure and more than a little breathless. He swallows. "Can I help you?"

The man stares at him for a moment and there is a light in his eyes that only serves to make him more attractive. "You were dancing in there just now, weren't you?" He nods his head in the direction of the club.

Armin eyes him wearily. Could be a nut... "What of it?"

"I just wanted to tell you that you are the most stunning thing I've ever seen and I'd really like to know your name," the man replies.

Armin can feel himself blushing but he doesn't think it will be noticeable under the street-lights. He narrows his eyes at the man. What's his game?

"Is that a line?"

"Nope," the man says shaking his head. "I'd just like to know your name, if that's okay?"

Armin continues to study him through narrowed eyes. This is how people pick up stalkers and just because he's attractive doesn't mean he can't turn into a grade A stalker. He read the story in the paper about the guy who kept someone in his basement until he got Stockholm Syndrome and fell in love with him.

"Azure," he says finally. Always give your stage name – protect yourself, just in case.

"Really?" the man asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Really," Armin firmly replies.

"So are you there a lot?" the man asks, nodding back towards the club.

"Well it is my job."

"So if I come back I might see you?"

"More than likely."

"Good."

The way he smiles at him chills Armin to his very core. It unsettles him but not in the way that Erwin's smiles at him or the way the punters' do. This smiles he can't put his finger on and he doesn't quite know how to react to it.

"Well," he says shaking the feeling off and forcing himself to smile coyly, "if you want a private dance you'll have to come back and pay for it." Might as well get another client out of this, if I can...

"If you're going to be on stage I'll definitely be back," the man says.

Armin opens his mouth to reply but at that moment a taxi pulls up beside them. Armin assumes that it's for this strange man who talks to strippers like they're real people so he is very surprised when he gestures for Armin to take it.

"Are you serious?"

"I can walk, it's no big deal," the man replies.

"But..."

"I don't live that far away. I don't know why I ordered it."

"Well thank you anyway but I can't accept it," Armin says.

"Why not?"

"I just can't."

"That's not an answer."

"Yes it is."

"Not dropping it till you tell me," the man says grinning.

Armin realises that he's not kidding. He sighs. "I can't afford it."

The man shrugs. "I'll pay."

"What?"

"I'll pay for it, wherever you need to go."

"This is crazy," Armin says. "You don't know me."

"Well no but would you rather get home faster or stand out in the cold for the rest of the night waiting for a bus that might not show?" the man asks grinning at him again.

Armin has to admit that it is an attractive prospect but he doesn't know this guy. He could have planned anything with the driver beforehand!

"What's the catch?" he asks.

"No catch," the man says. "Just hope you get home safe."

"Fine," Armin says finally shaking his head. It's getting awkward that they're keeping the driver waiting as they stand and argue and this man isn't going to take no for an answer so he opens the back door and gets it. Then man hands him a twenty, which is more than enough to get him home, before leaning his forearm against the edge of the door and smiling down at him.

"Hope I see again soon," he says before he closes the door and starts to walk away, not giving Armin a chance to respond.

Armin watches him for a moment, a tingling in his gut making his heart beat faster. The way his eyes had burned into him was like he could see into his soul and it makes Armin's heart flutter. He's broken out of his reverie by the gruff voice of the taxi driver.

"Where to kid?"

"Th... three Wisteria Court," he stammers. He shakes himself as the driver pulls away. He's being crazy. Jumping on the first sign of human decency shown to him is a bad train to hop on to... but those eyes and that smile, hell that entire face, is going to be hard to forget.