Stan felt like an actual piece of shit, his gut churning with alcohol. He was completely sloshed and he was in the wrong side of the neighborhood. He had a bottle of beer in his left hand while he staggered down the sidewalk in the middle of the night.

He breathed in crisp air to calm down his blooming headache. His gaze firmly on the ground before he slowly looked up, tilting his head a little.

He could see a greaser a few steps ahead of him. He wasn’t a dick like the rest of his friends so he murmured a quiet, “Hey, man” to the stranger. They were pretty, he thought when he caught a glimpse of their face. Maybe asking for their number while completely drunk was a horrendous idea but he wanted to try.