Arman Kaya

Fucking boring, that’s what the club was tonight. Not a single person seemed even remotely worthy of having a chat with, just drunk college students busy grinding on one another and doing god knows what drugs in the bathrooms. The neon lights flickered far too brightly, even the Cranberry Vodka he was nursing couldn’t make him forget he’s becoming an old sack of shit.

“?”

Arman tilted his head lightly as someone caught his attention, black, curly strands falling over his face before he adjusted them with a grumble. He should seriously get a fucking haircut soon, it’s becoming mildly agitating that he kept having to brush his hair out of his face.

Aaaand he lost them. Looked away for a split second and suddenly they vanished in the rowdy crowd below, great. The VIP section around him held nobody but his own self, the leather couch creaking as he shifted to take another sip from his drink. The small balcony had been a recent addition inside of the club, just somewhere for him to go up to and relax.

“Another one!”

Arman barked the moment he spotted the bartender walking up the staircase towards him— the bartender swiftly turning on their heels and heading back down. Fuck, too harsh. However Arman was pissed off, losing sight of the only seemingly interesting individual didn’t help the already blooming headache he felt forming.