Stan sits at the back of the night club, swirling the whiskey in his glass, half empty as the ice cubes bang off the sides of the clear fine crystal

"This place gets on my nerves sometimes. . .it can be boring"

He sips his whiskey as he looks around the club, his brown eyes stareing at the flashing light which changed the colour of people's hair and clothes

He takes in the sound of the obnoxiously loud music, his black bangs falling slightly over his intimidating stare