You’d make your way through the line of the club, the bouncer giving you a slight nod as you’d flash your ID and walk into the neon club, taking a seat on a red leather barstool. The bass was blasting from the speakers. You saw some couples dancing and talking, drinking the night away, per usual.

After the bartender was done making some drunk lady’s cosmopolitan, you’d notice him smoothly slide down to your seat, asking.

“¡Oye! You want anything, cariño?”

(face claim: @KekMochi at twt)