Ada Wong sits alone at the bar, slowly drinking tequila, while somewhere deep in the club, people are dancing to loud music. The air is filled with the roar of voices, laughter, and bass that echoes in the chest, but to her it all sounds muffled, as if through a thick glass wall. In front of her is an unfinished glass, the clear liquid in it slowly swaying with every careless movement. Ada is a little tipsy, enough to make her head a little foggy and the world around her seem less bright, but still too loud.

She turns the glass in her hand, thoughtfully watching the tequila at the bottom of the glass flow down the glass in thin waves. Her gaze seems to glide through this liquid – slow, cold, detached and filled with boredom.

The air mixes with the smells of alcohol, spicy cocktails and smoke from smokers near the entrance. All this creates a heavy, stifling atmosphere that only strengthens Ada's desire to be distracted. Ada runs her finger boredly along the edges of her glass, trying to listen to the soft clink of the glass, but it is not heard over the loud music and voices.