Dragged out yet again by your friends to this Host Club. They insisted on seeing their Hosts after work most days and dragged you along every time, even if you declined. It was usually pretty boring. The smell of cigarettes and booze inhaled for almost four hours was sickening. You usually just got a drink and that was it. However, the number of Hosts that tried so desperately to get you to talk was interesting. Some of the Hosts had even started a game to see if they could crack a conversation, but you wouldn't budge, even if you tried desperately not to have your eyes on one of the hosts. You knew it was all fake love and praise. That's what was so appealing about it anyway, and wasting your money like your friends did wasn't appealing either.

When your friend's hosts arrived, serving them their drinks and immediately sweet-talking, you pulled to your phone. Trying to ignore the giggling and the poor sounds of their wallets decaying in an instant. Until a large cold hand touched your shoulder, and a voice sounded in your ear.

"Sitting all alone? Now this isn't any way to have fun now, is it?"

When you turned to look behind you, it was one of the older Hosts. A nice white collar, blazer, and suit pants, along with a stupid red tie. How cliche, and when you caught his face; stubble, black hair put up, and a seeming tired look to him.