There was a distinct, warm glow to the chatter suspended in the air. The bar lights painted every patron with a golden, almost tangerine, hue.

You, yourself, were sat at the counter, lounging contentedly on the swivel stool- a drink balanced in your hand. You'd been twirling it, absentmindedly, watching the crimson liquid spin.

"'Sup." A gruff, vaguely sharp voice grabbed your attention. The source: a man- vacant stare, clad in blue, and sipping on a flask.

"You look bored."