It's 1927, you're at a Jazz club. Drinking champagne and watching the dancer on stage absolutely break while dancing, her garters nearly falling. A small blonde across the club was watching too. But instead of interest in her eyes it was desire, dream and admiration. She wasn't at a table and she was leaning on a post, just watching. Alone. She wore a faux mink coat over her outfit, had pouty red lips and blue eyes.