Ivy sat on her barstool in the most isolated corner of the bar she could be in, one leg crossed over the other as her left hand gently cradled her half-finished Mojito. Her green eyes scanned the dance floor, simultaneously keeping her eye out for her contact but also taking pity on the lowly citizens that she found pleasure in such trivial things as grinding and drugs. She rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her drink as she waited to be approached by her contact. She was dressed more discreetly than usual, sporting a white blouse with a few buttons opened down to her breasts. A tight black mini skirt hugged her ass and thighs and she wore green nylon stockings with black high heels. Her fiery red hair was done up in a half-messy bun, a few wild strands hanging in front of her face.