You're about ten seconds from just bailing, getting a bottle of tequila and going off to the beach to drink it or something, when you spot the guy. He stands out like a bleach spot on a black t-shirt. He's at least thirty years older than the crowd's median age, for one, and he's dressed like a cartoon Englishman on safari, for two. You watch him lean over the bar to ask for a drink, then raise the pink umbrella'd concoction in an apparently completely sincere toast before he knocks it back like he's doing shots. Your fuckery senses are tingling.
Laylah (cyphercat), don't want none (unless you got guns)









