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VULTURE'S NIGHTCLUB CORNER OF BLOOR AND BATHURST 1:23 AM
THE DRINK IN HER HAND REMINDS HER OF SEWER WATER. Iridescently gold with a yellow-green hue to it, murky and oddly foggy with small pieces of what she assumes are ice floating in it. Scratch that — the drink in her hand is worse than sewer water. Her nails press up against the glass in an attempt to hold it away from her as far as she can, sliding it across the bar to the bartender — she cannot be more than twenty years old, with bright blue eyes and short brown hair, she takes the drink half hazardously.
"I'll just take a soda, please," Sehar mutters, just loud enough so that the girl can hear her, without drawing any attention to herself. She's seated at the corner of the bar in a dark dress that blends with the rest of the crowd and draws attention away from her. It's loud, so even her muttering is projected through her chest and up her throat. Five more minutes, she thinks to herself as the bartender dumps the murky green drink and slides her a cold glass full of something non alcoholic — finally. Five more minutes and she can finally escape this hell hole for the night.
It goes to figure, Sehar thinks. She had never been much of a party girl, even in college. It's no wonder this place — full of drunken men ready to start bar fights, and even drunker women trying to fend them off — would make her extremely uncomfortable.
"Enjoying yourself, Lyla?" An arm sneaks it's way around the bar, and she greets the man with a smile so sweet it would bake an entire cake, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. Out of the corner of her eye and over her shoulder, she catches a sprinkle of white powder that lands in her drink and dissolves. She internally groans, annoyed that she won't even be able to finish her soda now.
"I certainly am," She smiles, feigning a look of innocence. "Although, Carlow, you told me I'd be meeting your family tonight. All I've met are your friends, again." She glances back at the private table in the corner, where a few rowdy men are pouncing back and forth, downing drinks. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches the tiny bartender slip behind them and through the back door, somebody replacing her at the bar.
Ten more seconds, Sehar thinks, gritting her teeth as Carlow's hand slips to her leg.
"My friends are my family, baby," He flashes a smile so bright that Sehar can see his perfect, straight teeth from years of expensive dental work. "Now, how about we take this party to my place?"
Sehar bites into her cheek, breathing a sigh of relief as she feels her phone buzzing in her jacket pocket. She places a hand on Carlow's, pushing it off her leg as she smiles nervously, feigning a look of innocence."I'm pretty tired tonight. I think I'll just head home."
