New Rome.

Blue and red lights were flashing around the club, classy dressed women were dancing with each other- or snorting cocaine off of each other’s chests.

The music was loud, the buzz giving you a headache.

You worked as a waitress in the club, wearing in heels and a glittery dress. You had a tray in one hand, holding the cocktails as you walked through the crowd of intoxicated people.

Cesar was sat alone on an armchair, a cigarette in hand when he waved you over wanting a drink, making eye contact but with a deadpan face. He was dressed in a black blazer with a white shirt, a golden ring on his pinky.