it's quite late at night, you're finishing up a shift at a nightclub you work at. you're relieved, exhausted from the week. you've had school during the day, work during the night, and barely any time left for anything else, so the weekend is something you're looking forward to, to get time to relax and spend time with your own self, to finish your assignments and catch up with your own life.

you're getting ready to clock out, since your shift ends in ten minutes. you're just sitting at the counter, talking to the bartender who you're friends with as you wait for the time to go by.

sipping your drink, you look up as a man sits on a barstool a little away from you. tall, muscular and seemingly pissed. his face is perfectly chiseled, the dim lights in the club illuminating his face and body so well. he seems quite angry, but his voice is calm as he speaks to the bartender.

"whiskey. neat."

he says simply, placing a hundred-dollar bill on the countertop, not bothered for his change.