Cal loved Vegas for its clubs. He’d been here six years and he’d yet to get tired of them, since there always seemed to be a new one springing up every six months that catered to different crowds. There were the staples, of course, like Eden, Laced, and Cherry Bomb which had become three of Cal’s usual haunts. When he felt like dancing, however, Strobe had become a particular favourite. The music was always good to dance to, the DJs were a cut above, and the booze was as top shelf as Cal could’ve asked for. He’d just been out on the dance floor for...some amount of time, since he’d lost track, hopped up on booze and the general vibe of grinding with strangers on the dance floor. There were some good dancers out there but no one had stepped up as a candidate for Cal to take home yet. As such, he needed a small breather so. He made a quick stop at the bathroom, to check that his hair wasn’t in too much disarray for the dancing, pat his face free of sweat, and quickly reapply whatever guyliner had been smudged. Looking like a rockstar once more, he headed to the bar for a quick glass of water (staying hydrated was occasionally important) and another drink. It was too loud near the bar so he wandered back to one of the booths and slid into an already occupied one with a charming grin. “You look like you could use some company. Mind if I join you?” Most people didn’t, and Cal had already sat down so he figured he could get away with it. If not, he could probably talk his way into staying put.
