❛ no offense, but i think you might be just a little too crazy for me. ❜
— @perfectly-intoxicated 🤭
Ivanka had been taken to the bar by a man that she'd initially hoped was going to buy her a bunch of useless high-end clothes that she really didn't need, but when his card declined after buying her two cosmopolitans, she had told him not-so-subtly to fuck off and began flirting with the unfathomably cute bartender instead.
Of course, when the bartender had called her crazy, it caught Ivanka off guard... and only served to intrigue them more.
"You think I'm crazy just because of a silly little thing like that?" she purred, looking over at Hannah through her long eyelash extensions and humming playfully as she took another sip of the cosmopolitan in front of her. "If trying to find a sugar daddy was really that insane, I'd totally be stuck in a psych ward right now."
Since Ivanka had initially been expecting that she'd need to impress a rich guy that was only after the same thing that most guys were, she was wearing a black, form-fitting mini dress paired with a set of long black gloves and a pearl choker that perfectly concealed the tiny scar on her neck from the turning bite she'd received mere centuries ago.
It was obvious that she'd had at least a little bit of work done on her face and her body, lips a little too perfectly plump to be natural and her curves a little too sculpted, but it wasn't like she was trying to hide those aspects at all. In fact, Ivanka saw herself as a constantly-improving work of art— she didn't need the lip filler or the implants to look beautiful, nobody really did, but she definitely liked the doll-esque aesthetic of it all.