·˚ ༘ 𝘒𝘐𝘓𝘓 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌 𝘊𝘈𝘙𝘛𝘌𝘓 ﾉ naruto.

$$ 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦

SELF- INDULGENT PLEASURE IS A FLASHY WAY TO BOARD THE TRAIN TO HELL.

( except with the girl and her snapping jaws, hell is just another playground. )

When the clock strikes 11:11, that is when she comes out to play.

A scarlet neon sign buzzes lowly in the clear night, bobbing up and down in the air right in front of the entrance to the bar. It's unattached to anything, simply twirling smoothly on the spot, flashing the word DISTRICT. Lanterns float in a similar way; they're retro fashioned, with the old kinds of bulbs inside, but they're pink and blue instead of the faded yellow.

Below it, people line up in front of the 8 foot bodyguard with three eyes, who scans each face and ID carefully before stepping aside and allowing them in. Physical mutations such as his are rare: she assumes the manager of this bar gave the job to him without even needing an interview.

Haku, with her dull, flat eyes and a wicked grin, enters with a flick of her silver white hair. A jazz singer with suave hips hums low in her throat into the microphone, creating a moody ambience with half lidded, flirty looks.

There are booths all around. Plush, velvet seats with a floating lantern above each mahogany table, polished to perfection with little to no chips in them. Clusters of groups dressed in iron pressed clothes chat with chins leaning on hands, hair slicked back or a silky curtain. There are three people with physical mutations, which is three more than she expected. Probably CEOs or secretaries of something something oil or franchise.

Haku looks at her surroundings appreciatively. It's been a while since she's visited a nice bar; not one of those dingy ones of cheap wood and plastic stools.

All the seats are empty except for two, and she decides to sit right in the middle of the two occupied ones. The other two males exchange an awkward glance and look at her. It's an unspoken rule to not sit next to someone else unless flirting or no spaces are left. Like urinals.

"You look young."

"Mhm," she hums with a bat of her lashes. It's always fun to play around and fuck with everyone on a personal level.

Haku chose to leave her face bare today, devoid of any sharp eyeliner or dark lipstick. She worked overtime today because some clients were fuckheads so she had to deal with them— their bodies are safely hidden in the back, being lovingly feasted upon by her hellhound pups.

"Hi," greets the bartender, waiting pleasantly for her order.

She chokes back a grin, putting on a melodramatic face. "Can I have one alcohol please?" She stutters with innocent eyes.

"One alcohol?" Scoffs the man next to her. "Get out of here punk."

"What ever do you mean, kind sir? I'm definitely of age," she blinks innocently. She is, even if she had a baby face. Lying just happens to be one of her favourite hobbies.

"No one says 'one alcohol'." How much is his ego fed to be all-knowing? She meets his stare with faux shyness.

"Can I see your ID again?" Asks the bartender politely. She giggles and flashes him the purple card. The bartender scans with the same fake, polite smile, and to her great amusement, once his eyes finish scouring, he visibly pales and immediately puts on a more meek demeanour.

"Y-Yeah, uh, what would you like to order ma'am?"

"Did I stutter? One alcohol."

The bartender is highly flustered, and she hides a giggle behind her hand.

"Oh, relax," she grins toothily, "I'm just playing. Get me a cherry martini."

The bartender is quick to work on hers, much to the distaste of the other man sitting on her left.

"I ordered before her," he barks.

"Sorry sir," is all the bartender can offer as he continues determinedly with the cherry martini.

Beefy, hairy hands slam down on the table, attracting the attention of all the other customers sitting prettily in the plush booths and the atmosphere shifts to a darker, yet lively one.

Ooh. Little glints of metal hiding between thighs and peeking out of pockets smile at her. It would seem that this bar attracts a special kind of person; the type that Haku is absolutely adores.

Elitists with a penchant for violence.

She grins, watching the other man mouth off the bartender who simply ignores him, accustomed to foul-mannered customers.

"Man, shut yer trap." With that, Haku slugs the man in the face.

Slugged man slumps straight into the nearby punchbowl which splashes everywhere. That is more than enough to be the perfect excuse for any customer within the vicinity to take out the little glints of metal and show the arsenal of chosen, bejeweled weapons.

Gladly taking offense at the others brandishing their weapons, they leap at each other, eyes wild with bloodlust as they begin to tango. 

Someone begins playing classical music over the radio. Mass hysteria ensures, with teeth and necks snapping. Glass shards fly everywhere, fists bruising and wrists breaking and Haku looks at the scene with a bright, dimpled smile.

"Oops," is all she can say.