Alcohol smelled worse than Charley expected. Truth be told she wasn’t sure what she expected when Savannah threw the leather pants and shirt that Charley was still convinced was missing 75% of its fabric, but it definitely wasn’t something this stale. It was easy to see why Papi preached about alcohol being the Devil’s liquid every other Sunday between the sickening smell, dancing that barely resembled dancing, and the lusting leers following her and Savannah everywhere they went. But one gaze filled her with something warm rather than shame and disgust. His blue eyes were warm and inviting and focused only on her, much to the annoyance of his friends. His clothes and mannerisms marked him as military or ex-military according to Savannah’s crash course...and he was walking right for her. Charley’s eyes flicked around in a desperate bid to ask her roommate what the heck she was supposed to do, but Savannah was already on the dance floor. Reaching for her drink, Charley took a large gulp and coughed slightly as the man reached her, warm eyes meeting hers and a smile on his lips. “H-hi.”