the bar is permeated with all sorts of different people. divergent backgrounds that all share one prevalent trait, they want to forget. the colored phosphorecent lights flash on-beat to the blaring music playing—the latter drowns out the slurring of fighting drunkards; the wet, squelching noises of public indecency; and the different clinkings of glass belonging to the bartender.

among the chaos sits eugene allerton; a united states navy discharged from jacksonville, florida. his mahogany hair is neatly styled—albeit with some loose strands falling over his forehead—in a classic side part. his milky white shirt doesn't do any favors for his taupe complexion, covered in a thin layer of sweat. a cigarette dangles from his rosy, sodden lips. the air around him, aside from alluring, smells of nicotine and a very distinct-cologne. he'd been making eye contact all night, if interested or amused, remains indiscernible.