Friday nights are busy at the Kingsman club, Eggsy reminds himself, when he takes a quick look at the brimming audience from behind the curtain. On the pole, Roxy slides down with a shit eating grin in black lace underwear, pleased at pulling off a move she's been practising by day for weeks on end. A hen party in the back goes wild and the crowd roars along with it, Merlin smirking behind the bar as he hands out alcohol like water. Eggsy remembers the first time he set foot into the place and realised it's one heck of a strip bar with their own unique clientele.

The lights dim down to signal the end of Roxy's performance, who takes a deep bow even though she stands there next to a strip pole in tiny knickers, not the stage of the Royal Ballet. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this was Lancelot. Next up we'll have Galahad," Arthur announces and there's another round of cheers. Roxy saunters off the stage while one of Arthur's assistants gathers her clothes from the floor.

She comes through the curtains backstage and slips into a silk robe Eggsy's holding ready for her. It occurs to him sometimes how complete their lack of inhibitions is and he says, "You killed it out there."

"What a girl wouldn't do to pay her rent and get a free drink." She gives him a cheeky smile and cocks her head towards the stage where his music is about to start. He has a new performance to debut, something long expected by certain regular visitors of the club and Eggsy can already envision their faces as he comes to stand in the darkness right in front of the curtains.

He takes a careful look around in the half illuminated audience, recognizes some people but not many. His eyes land on a man in the front row. He's in his fifties, glasses, clean cut suit, and funnily enough an umbrella leaning against the edge of his armchair. Handsome and somewhat out of place at a strip club with his pristine demeanor and half bored look, Eggsy thinks. The music and lights come on as a signal for him to start and Eggsy tugs his baseball cap over his eyes.

The audience goes eerily quiet as he slowly walks towards the front of the stage like he's trying to seduce a girl on the street. Eggsy bites his lip and gives the first row his best doe eyes and shy smile. He catches Mystery Man's eye and bats his lashes in the hope of some extra pay, but gets a spark of interest instead.

The first thing to go is his jacket, slow slide that stops it from getting caught. It's his favourite, the black and yellow one he wears on a night out when the clubs are brimming with hot blokes. Eggsy lets it drop to the floor without a sound and fiddles languorously with the buttons at the top of his shirt. All eyes are on his neck as he undoes the two buttons and his collar falls open to expose the expanse of his neck.

He takes another look at Mystery Man before he makes a show of taking his shirt off. The stranger is fully focused on him even as Eggsy pulls the fabric over his head and momentarily vanishes in darkness. He arches his back while tugging the shirt over his head. It pulls his hat up and messes with his hair to give him a careless sort of look like he's stripping for someone in particular and in private, which he supposes is the case, when he locks eyes with the suited figure again. The man breaks eye contact to look at the Kingsman necklace dangling at his throat like a sign of ownership. Eggsy clasps it in his fist and shoots the woman next to Mystery Man a quirk of the lip to regain his composure. Sultry expression, he reminds himself, and the words ring in his mind as clearly as the day Merlin shouted it from the back of the club at rehearsals.

Eggsy makes a show of taking off the baseball cap that sits lightly on his head, angled towards the ceiling to let the world see his well practised range of expressions. He takes a chance and leans forward to toss the hat at his keen observer with the umbrella, flashing a charming smile half at him and half at a group of women at the table behind him. One of them yells 'hey sweetums!' at him and on another night Eggsy might blow her a kiss for a bit of extra cash, but he's still being watched by the man in the front row and he doesn't want to lose that interest. Holding the man's gaze, Eggsy cards his fingers through his hair and licks his lips.

There's something intriguing about him, Eggsy thinks when the stage lights dim down a bit and he sees his audience better. Not exactly one of those businessmen types, but he still oozes of power. It's not the only thing Eggsy notices. Mystery Man's sporting a raging boner too, though his face is as calm as ever and Eggsy faces the urge to have him come undone right there in one of the club's armchairs.

Eggsy kicks off his sneakers and he can tell the ladies in the back are both drunk and growingly restless, even if he's rewarded with patient attention from the front. He takes a few steps back to the pole and bends sideways to grab it with both hands and slowly hoists his weight off the ground. Eggsy takes a deep breath as he gets his legs up in the air in a display of his strength. He wraps a leg around the pole and places the palm of his lower hand down on the ground. Someone cheers and another person joins in as he does a split upside down with the grace of a circus acrobat.

This is what people come to Kingsman for, after all. The first strip club he ever visited had a bunch of girls meekly danced holding onto a pole in a mirrored room with pink lights, but there was none of that at Kingsman. They were a dozen athletic performers, who admittedly did take their clothes off, and Merlin, the bartender with a set or two of his own. The people were wild for it. To Eggsy's delight that included Mystery Man, now hiding his arousal with Eggsy's baseball cap.

Fucking hell, he thinks at the sight of it, and tries to keep himself in control long enough to get his legs over his head once and then descend safely back onto the ground. Eggsy can feel the blood that has pooled in his skull rush straight downwards and swallows thickly, because this show seems to go both ways tonight.

With shaky hands he works his belt open and forces himself to look away from the stranger at the front and direct a cocky smile at a lonely soul or two across the floor, until he's got his confidence back and lets his jeans pool around his ankles. Eggsy steps out of them and in the heat of the spotlight he's publicly half hard and earning a lot of whistles. It's one of those moments when he realises how ridiculous his job really is, literally having to rip off his pants on stage to the delight of others and a bit of cash. Amidst it all he still holds Mystery Man's attention.

At the end of his set, the lights dim down and he takes a bow like Roxy before him, his stage name announced and celebrated with cheers. The man in the front row gets a glass of whisky served by Merlin himself and he tips it towards Eggsy with a toast. The flush Eggsy's been trying to hide burns on his cheeks as he walks off the stage with a comment about his arse having half the crowd bursts out in laughter.

He dips backstage and right into a robe offered by an already dressed Roxy. "Bloody hell, did you see that?" he asks her still shaken up about the performance.

"I do believe you were the main attraction of the night. Expect a bonus from Arthur for that, sweet cheeks," she winks at him and gathers her hair in a ponytail in front of his mirror while he digs around for a fresh pair of jeans and a shirt.

"Screw that. Did'ya see that guy in the front? Fuckin' looked like he's 'bout to hold a lecture and come in his pants at the same time."

"You mean the one in the suit and glasses?" Roxy asks and leans back against the dressing table. Eggsy nods and pulls on his clothes. "He came in minutes before your performance; I saw Merlin give him a seat. Must be quite a guy to receive special treatment like that."

"D'ya reckon I should go check if he's still there?"

"Monumentally bad idea, if you ask me," Roxy says, but moves past him to peek through the curtain. "Still sitting. Might just be waiting for the ladies to get out."

Eggsy chews on his lip and makes the decision to take his chances, just this once. He snatches his jacket from the back of a chair and hurries out the side of the dressing rooms. He takes a quick look back at Roxy, who shrugs, sighs and turns back to the mirror, before he barges out the door by the restrooms and pops up right at the back of the bar.

The stranger is seated a mere two metres from him, near empty scotch glass resting on the counter in front of him. The rest of the club gapes empty with no more sets to come and closing time being ten minutes past. Combined with the fact that Merlin only lets half sober people willing to offer up a fifty quid tip up front drink overtime to begin with, and even then it's dependent on his mood, Eggsy wonders what the man's still doing here. Merlin stands in the corner closest to him drying a glass with a damp rag and he shoots Eggsy the kind of look that says 'this better be worth it'.

"Hullo," Eggsy quips and takes the seat next to Mystery Man.

"Hello," he says without even a hint of a smile, "I have your hat." He sets it down on the counter and Eggsy pulls it towards himself, musing on the man's posh voice.

"Ya coulda just left it here at the bar."

Mystery Man shrugs. "I was rather hoping to buy you a drink."

Eggsy eyes him suspiciously, because it is technically not against club policies to socialize with customers, but he's been warned that it has a tendency of ending badly. His suitor seems to take notice of this and says, "Ah, right. I forgot to mention I used to work here."

"You?" Eggsy asks disbelievingly as Merlin serves him his usual after show beer.

"Yes, though it was years and years ago." A fickle smile crosses his face. "Harry Hart," he says and offers Eggsy him hand to shake.

"Eggsy," he offers back and demands to know more about Harry Hart's time at Kingsman.

"Well, I used to be Galahad back when Merlin here first started. It's good business. Make money eagerly for a few years and Arthur makes sure you get an honest job somewhere where you can climb a career ladder. Once you get there you integrate another Kingsman, and the business keeps rolling, money keeps coming in for the old King," Harry says casually not bothering to explain how exactly he switched out making a living in the nude to a tailored suit. Drawing back to his own topic, Harry asks, "Since Kingsmen seem to get free drinks these days, could I invite you to dinner instead. I assume that's why you dance in the first place: getting food on the table."

"I don't know-"

"It doesn't come with any preset conditions," Harry cuts in, "I simply enjoyed your show."

"Oh, I noticed," Eggsy mumbles into his pint.

Harry wraps his hands around his scotch with the umbrella dangling off his right arm. "Correct me if I'm mistaken, but you seemed to share the sentiment."

"Well, umm, I can hardly deny that." Eggsy is pinned under his demanding gaze and shrugs. It wasn't exactly something he could hide, stark naked in the spotlights on a stage for everyone to see, and his interest is sparked again. He gets up, downs the rest of his beer and says, "Alright then. Dinner for two."