✔𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 ➳𝐌𝐚𝐱 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 isn't her usual scene. She likes things with more energy, not places where the bartender keeps too much of an eye on you and lingers in case you might want to chat and they can have the chance of better tips, not their fault, of course. Everyone has to make a living somehow. And they don't know she's working either, that no matter what, she won't tip them more than necessary because no one pays for whatever she spends on drinks and her paycheck doesn't match a place like this.

He isn't hard to spot as he saunters through the establishment, black hair slicked back and dressed in an expensive suit she would love to know how he can afford. She props up her chin with an elbow resting on the counter and watches him shamelessly. It's no surprise how quickly he notices, and she sends him a sweet smile, feigning a blush as she looks into her lap and back up. Acting as if she got caught is the best option.

Keeping busy is good, so she grabs her phone, mindlessly scrolling through whatever is on her feed. None of it is of interest. It can't be. Her attention is split. The mirror behind the wall of alcohol on the other side of the counter becomes her saviour when Max sits down not far behind her at a table. Blue eyes keep a watch on her back. It's like she can feel his stare creeping up the back of her neck. Intense. But she pretends to not notice.

It's not for nothing she was chosen over her coworkers, looks play a part too, but she prefers not thinking too much about that. No one wants to face how their privileges helped them land a job. To be fair, none of the men could take it and the woman who was meant to do it backed out when she learned who he was. In the end, she was the only choice.

Arching her back, she pushes out her ass and crosses one leg over the other, letting a heel dangle to the side. It's a little demeaning, but the chief was clear on the bonus this would get her too.

Not that any of that is what she cares about. Of course not. Money doesn't matter. All she cares about is him, making sure he's thrown into a hole of a jail cell that he won't ever get rid of. The world is terrible enough as is without people like him running rampant and tainting the streets of New York.

A snarl is about to curl on her lips until she feels a presence beside her, and she glances to the side. Disappointment strikes instantly. It's not him. Another man. One who's had plenty of drinks as he sat through dinner with the men in the corner booth. She didn't pay much attention to them in the dim yellow light, no matter how loudly they tried to present themselves. They're like a mob of bumbling baboons, screaming and shouting, throwing shit at the wall until something sticks.

"Hey, you gonna be here alone all night?" The man grins hollowly, scratching his unkempt beard and smirking. He's utterly unnoteworthy. She tries to not grimace at the slightly backhanded question. With a chuckle, she begins swirling the empty toothpick from her martini around in her drink. The olives abandoned ship long ago. Right now, she wants to do the same.

"Well, I came here alone without the intention of meeting anyone." Her voice is low and soft, non-threatening.

"Aw, well ain't that too bad? Pretty girl like you should always have company," he grins and sits down beside her. She sends him a painful smile.

"I don't think it's too bad at all. I came here to have a drink," she replies, shrugging and showing as little interest as she can.

"I'll buy you one then. That looks just about done," he speaks and gestures to the lingering bartender who scurries to make another drink after the man points to her empty glass. "What's your name?"

"Alice," she chuckles, "I appreciate the drink, but I think your friends want you to go back." She looks over to the corner where they sit like vultures, eyes wide and watching the entire interaction. The horrible thought that one might try to swoop down and strike even if she discourages this one enough to leave enters her mind. She hides the grimace with another smile.