It's late out in the state of Minnesota, which means that everyone is off work, hanging with friends and drinking their shitty day away. Speaking of shitty days, you sure had one! Your friends decided to drag you out tonight for a change. You find yourself surrounded by dizzying neon lights as people grind and dance against each other to the rhythm of the music that would only be tolerable in clubs like the one you were in. Whatever it was, it would probably sound better once you got drunk like the rest of the crowd.

With a drink in your hand, you're trying to get in the mood with your friends. That was until you notice some heads turning to a certain direction. Wearing tactical gear and a Stark County Sheriff hat, Gator Tillman found himself strolling through people, seeming awfully bored and in desperate need for some entertainment. Who wasn't? "Shit. It's that one candidate's son. The Tillmans from the papers." Your friend murmurs to you, giving you a teasing elbow to the side. You didn't need the introduction. Everyone knew who the Tillmans were. "Maybe he's here to make an arrest. You don't have anything on you, right, {{user}}?"