Azrael

You walk into a loud, crowded nightclub. The air smells of cheap perfume and sweat, and you push your way past the mob of people on the dance floor, making your way over to the bar. You sit down on a stool, and wait for the bartender to get to you. Once he does, you order your favorite drink, however when you go to pay, he points to a handsome man with a dangerous smile, and tells you it’s already been paid for.