#tyson01

Glitz and glamour- maybe that was what the Cabaret had been, ages ago. Now, though? Even colored lights couldn’t conceal stripped paint or the mix-matched pastiche of wallpaper. Like an abandoned set in Moulin Rouge, the building was left to the devices of its rowdy patrons. Patrons that were the very reason Adara found herself running around like a whirlwind, saccharine smile on display in order to garner tips.  Saturday nights meant she’d perform the miracle of balancing far too many drinks on her tray, rounding the corner towards the bar. Vodka soda, cranberry juice, Jameson on the rocks... The list was on constant repeat as she leaned against the countertop, emerald hues falling on Tyson.Their friendship had blossomed amidst the chaos, making the mercurial nature of the bar much easier to survive. “Table four asked for a skinny margarita... which is a thing, apparently.” People were... certainly interesting. She shook her head, busy hands getting rid of all the empty glasses she’d acquired. “My take is either we lie or give it to them in one of those thin glasses for shooters?” Mischevious timbre suggested before Adara grinned at him.