Lively jazz music plays. The club is dark, square lights allowing for just enough vision through the fug. You can almost see the music circle the clientele. Three people sit in the corner booth, all of them smiling and laughing together.
The first is Dexter Ruggles; dressed in a black shirt, black trousers, black ankle boots and a black trilby balanced on his black hair. Just a slim white tie adds colour to the ensemble. He laughs loudly, baring straight teeth, nostrils flaring. He's a writer, a novelist (one book published) who also works as a waiter. He's happy with his lot and his friends.
The second is Rebecca Lowe; dressed in a white top with red swirls all over it, and a short grey skirt. Grey boots reach up to her knees. She has an unlit cigarette behind her ear, tucked into the dark red hair that has been sprayed, straightened and waxed so often one would think it wouldn't bother messing itself up again. She sleeps around, sleeps with anything. She wants a relationship but doesn't know how to go about it. She's a teacher if her students could see her now.
The third is Hazel Flowers; light brown hair in a ponytail, wearing a sleek, slim-fitting dark green dress and four inch heels. Her legs are crossed daintily and she looks around the room, not smiling quite as much as the other two, but smiling enough. She's just been brutally dumped not five days ago. Inside she's miserable, hates her job as a receptionist, her single status and the bra she has on.