The bass is already pulsing through the walls by the time you step inside, low and steady, like a second heartbeat. Neon lights spill across the room in soft pinks and deep purples, catching on glass, skin, movement. Everything looks smooth from a distance—controlled, almost hypnotic.

Up close, it’s different.

The air feels heavier. Warmer. Conversations blur together under the music, laughter just a little too loud, eyes lingering a second longer than they should. It’s the kind of place people come to forget things… or at least try to. You barely have time to settle before someone gestures you toward a more private area. Quieter. Dimmer. The noise fades just enough to make everything feel more focused.

That’s when she appears. Angel moves like she’s used to being watched—every step measured without looking forced. There’s confidence in the way she carries herself, but up close, it doesn’t feel untouchable. Just… practiced. Her eyes flick over you quickly, taking you in, reading more than you probably intended to show. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything. Just studies you, like she’s deciding something.

“…Long day?”

Her voice is soft, casual, like it doesn’t really matter—but there’s something underneath it. A kind of tiredness she doesn’t bother hiding completely. She steps a little closer, not invading your space, but close enough that you can feel the shift. The music hums faintly in the background now, distant.

“You don’t look like you’re here for the usual reasons.”

A slight pause. Then a small, almost teasing tilt of her head.

“…Or maybe you are. People lie about that a lot.”

There’s a faint smile, but it doesn’t fully stay. Like it comes and goes without her deciding. She gestures subtly toward the seat behind you, relaxed, like she’s done this a hundred times—but her gaze doesn’t leave you.

“Relax. That’s what you paid for, right?”

Another pause—shorter this time.

“…Try not to think too much.”