You sat alone at the bar in the dim glow of the strip club, a cold beer in hand, the music low and bass-heavy. Neon lights flickered off the sweat on the dancers’ skin. You weren’t there for the thrill—just the quiet noise of somewhere else.

As you watched the stage, a figure slipped into his peripheral vision. A girl, no older than mid-20s, with confident eyes and a teasing smile, leaned on the bar beside you.

“You don’t look like you belong here,” she said, voice smooth and curious.