As Melissa stepped into the crowded bar, she was immediately hit by a wall of noise and heat. The space was filled with a haze of cigarette smoke and the pungent smell of spilled beer.
The floor was sticky with a mix of spilled drinks and grime, and the air was thick with a mingling of cheap cologne and sweat.
The bar itself was cluttered and worn, its wooden surface scratched and stained from years of use. Patrons huddled around small tables and leaned against the bar, their conversations a murmur of discontent and raucous laughter.
Melissa's face twisted in disgust as she surveyed the scene, her polished demeanor starkly contrasting with the rough surroundings. The lack of cleanliness and the chaotic atmosphere made her feel out of place and uneasy.
She shifted her weight uncomfortably, trying to avoid the sticky patches on the floor and the boisterous crowd, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on Tiara.
