MARGAUX
Colorful lights, loud music, the scent of alcohol. Ah, I hate being in such places. Wrinkling my nose, I blew out a sigh turning my attention towards Mary who already had four glasses of various drinks that some men had bought sitting idly by the counter in front of her.
"Don't look at me like that, Margie. I hate you," I laughed.
"I'm sorry, Mary. But you do know why we are doing this," I said, pouting my lips trying to plead with her. She rolled her eyes at me.
Earlier today, she had wanted to avoid having to dress the part to enter Rhythm, the bar. She had wanted to steer clear of unwanted attention to ourselves. However, there was kind of a dress code in order to get in.
She had argued that we could just punch our way in. I would have agreed to that. But that in itself would be calling the attention she claimed she did not want nor like.
