There was a chill in the air that night. Something so familiar, he wasn’t entirely certain if it were his own body reacting to the countless intrusive thoughts or an anarchic breeze that lasted an eighth of a second rattling the bones beneath taut muscle. He shivered once more. Stubbing out his cigarette, he gave one last retrieving glance to the outside world. Strangely docile considering the circumstances. What a time to be working at one of the biggest clubs in Hollywood.
The absence of music wasn’t too uncommon on a weekday night. The heavy bass that pounded through his body was overstimulating most nights so much he preferred working on stocking in the back. He very well could’ve chosen somewhere else to bar-tend if he were being honest--- but the tips were almost too tempting, not to mention all the free ass he got with every flirt that approached his end. It wasn’t a bad gig.
The lone figure at the bar was the only thing remotely uncommon if he thought about it. Each step garnering at least an ounce more of unwanted attention. Medium blonde tendrils framing an undeniably familiar face. He could send Louis over. A beat passed before he pushed himself to approach.
“You like cranberry vodkas that much or you just in the mood for some chaos?” The words were misleading. He contemplated clarifying. “What’ll it be?”
@nirvanarossi
