Every time Miki told herself to stop staying in the studio till ridiculous hours of the night, she ended up breaking her own rule. This time, she stepped out of the studio at half past 2am, her shoulders sore and tense from crouching over her drawing desk the whole evening. A chilly wind had picked up since she was last outdoors, and her attempts to light a smoke were rendered futile by the relentless gusts of wind. She cussed, a little more loudly than she would usually have liked, but there was hardly anyone on this street corner at this time despite it being in Ginza. Nearby, the door sign of a bar creaked in the wind, and Miki dragged her exhausted feet towards it, determined to get a nightcap to ease those muscles before finding a way to get home.
Upon entering, she saw that (thankfully) it was a relatively quiet night inside too. A few groups of patrons dotted the seats near the back, while the bar was unoccupied except for one other patron, a man with platinum hair. She slid into an open seat, several seats between herself and the other customer, and signalled the bartender over.
“Negroni, barrel aged if you have it, please,” she ordered quickly but politely. The bartender raised an eyebrow, betraying his surprise at a young woman ordering such a manly drink, but he kept his comments to himself. Now inside, Miki reached for her cigarettes again, and managed to light one this time, taking a much deserved puff.