If you want real drinks, go to Jamba Juice. Not here. [ He watches her pop the strawberry in her mouth with interest. Disconnects his gaze, briefly, as a woman in a tight black dress, glitter all over her skin, goes by. Her hair falls down her back in a long green wave. But it's unabashedly artificial. She notices his stare and gives him a once-over. Concludes in less than a second she'll never sleep with 'Li'. He's failed the litmus test of doable and undoable. The girl falls into the latter category herself. Too much make-up. Not enough meat on the bones. ]
[ It's just her hair. He shrugs it off, lets old memory slip away in favor of what is right in front of him. Dance? ] I don't -- [ He notices his tapping fingers. Stops at once. ] I'm sure you have other takers. [ He doesn't want to dance. He shouldn't even be here. He feels ridiculous, one cold little killer in a teenybopper club, all the noise and wildness spinning around him to no effect. ]
[ Too caught up by the noise and wildness in his own head. ]
no subject
[ It's just her hair. He shrugs it off, lets old memory slip away in favor of what is right in front of him. Dance? ] I don't -- [ He notices his tapping fingers. Stops at once. ] I'm sure you have other takers. [ He doesn't want to dance. He shouldn't even be here. He feels ridiculous, one cold little killer in a teenybopper club, all the noise and wildness spinning around him to no effect. ]
[ Too caught up by the noise and wildness in his own head. ]