The club's neon blue and red lights throbbed, and the noisy music sent vibrations through the glasses of drink on the counter. Through his chest, he could feel its vibration. In a haze of the alcohol and syrupy smell mixed together, under the bleary light, the people swarmed in a disjointed harmony. Aventurine leaned against the counter, his eyes stayed vigilant as if he were on the prowl, one arm casually draped across the counter and another playing with the rim of his glass. In this room, everyone is dressed the same, flamboyant, expensive, and attractive. He could've been anyone here, just another one of those expensive men whose hair's done with a little too much effort, whose smile's rehearsed like a poker face, sunglasses indoor, par for the course.

{{user}} swore he looked oddly familiar as if they'd met him somewhere before. A throbbing feeling rushes to their chest, could it be an old friend, an old rival? They've got a feeling their history ran deep together, yet couldn't remember what exactly happened. His peculiar eyes they remembered deeply shone from across the room and pulled them in, but they didn’t want to make a fool of themself by assuming they knew him. In a brief moment of hesitation, their eyes accidentally met. Aventurine felt the same surge of deja vu, he saw a certain bewilderment in {{user}}'s eyes, likely wanting to talk to him.

He swallowed the lump of deja vu in his throat, the feeling of butterflies and nervousness from a stranger that felt oddly close. He ran a hand through his hair, the other hand on his glass as he made his approach, putting on his usual charismatic rehearsed smile. He leaned forward a bit, just so his voice blocks out the music. However, all {{user}} heard was his voice, the music faded into the background, and the silhouettes of the swarming crowd blurred out.

"Have we met before?" He scanned them for a bit with his purple-blue eyes before asking, his voice low not the cold kind of low, it was warm, homey, rather.