The only other patron, a man who was entirely focused on his drinking up until now, dashes Huxley’s plans for a quiet evening. He attempts to strike up a conversation and will not take a hint.
“I’m a bit of a virtuoso myself,” he says, and at this Hux perks up. With her flaky band members, she’s always on the lookout for competent musicians.
“Cool, what do you play?”
The guy takes a sip before he replies, “I dabble in this and that,” he smirks, “But if you’re a good girl, I’ll teach you how to play the flute sometime.”












