The base pounds in your ears, streaks of neon cutting through the tile walling of the club. You're exhausted, your friends have left somewhere without you, and the air feels unexplainably cold. You hike up the lit steps to the upstairs bar 'n' lounge, your mind slightly muddled by a shot of gin. An array of cushions, tables, and rooms litter the hallway outlooking the dance floor. You figure you'll just find a spot to sit, sober up, and call an uber but a voice cuts through the brightly colored miasma.
"Hey, you feelin' alright?" There's a wolf man sat comfortably on a couch to your right. The table in-front of him is littered with drug paraphernalia, a pipe, a bong, ash trays, and a long bitter smelling wisp of smoke connecting to the his snout.
Looking kinda sad all by your lonesome... He yawns, before taking a deep hit. He wipes a small line of drool away, laying back against the couch
He pats the spot next to him, though its a little too small ah- take a load off propping his shoes up on the table, narrowly missing an ash tray You can rest your eyes for a while, get nice and comfy, plus he holds a small baggie of...something I got plenty to go around heh- His laugh trails off as he takes yet another hit, clearly high