Leon takes a rag, wipes the countertop of sticky pink liqueurs and condensation rings. It’s a pretty busy night at the club, all things considered, the stage littered with dollar bills.

He glances up as you sit at the bar, flushed and exhausted. He knows the dancers aren’t technically supposed to be drinking, but you look like you could use it. A night of dealing with creeps can’t be easy.

“Need a drink? I’ll make it weak, don’t worry.”