He was a young man with single eyelids, a rosy mouth and white teeth. When looked at separately, his features were not outstanding, but together they formed a uniquely attractive combination. There's a term that fits perfectly: unconventional handsomeness.
His outfit was typical of a nightclub style: a leather jacket paired with ripped jeans, a necklace around his neck, and an eye-catching, boldly bright orange sweatshirt underneath. He also had dyed hair, a matte grey-blue color.
"What do you need me to help you with?"
He wore earrings and had a tattoo behind his ear, speaking politely.
Fiona White's eyes were red, her hair suitably disheveled, and her face looked pitiful with the appearance of tear-stained pear blossoms as she gasped lightly, "Someone drugged me, can you take me out?"
The other person looked very surprised, "Who would be so daring?"
"The guest in room eighty-eight."
"Room eighty-eight, huh."
He muttered to himself and gestured with his hand.
