“Pay for the whiskey, mister,” Jinah murmured distractedly to her newest customer as she polished a shot glass to utmost perfection. Her limbs were so sore, she felt as if tendrils of flame were latching to her skin with slow, painful licks. “Or I’ll be forced to alert security.”

“Get me the number of the lady who worked here the other day,” the customer countered insistently with conspiratorial whispers. “And I’ll pay you double.”

There was no more sound in their conversation, save for the muted squeak of Jinah’s dishcloth and the deafening boom of the overhead speakers. She appraised him with a curious eye - he was definitely the oldest man she had seen in Ellui for awhile, he looked to be in his mid 40s. He wasn’t very attractive with his tie askew and bloodshot eyes, and he was certainly very, very drunk, but the Montblanc watch strapped firmly around his wrist gave her some idea about how he was able to slip past the bouncers at the entrance.

Jinah exhaled, craning her neck slightly to catch the eye of another bouncer just a handful of meters away from her, looking out for any signs of trouble on the dance floor. She nodded towards the man in front of her pointedly, his cheeks ruddy and pupils scarily dilated from the immense volume of alcohol he had consumed. “I can’t do that.”

"Why not? Why can’t bitches like you just quietly do what they’re told to?” the man demanded, his speech slurred as he brought his fist down on the wooden bar repeatedly, attracting the rude stares of various other partygoers.

As a burly, muscular hand wrapped its thick fingers around the drunkard’s left shoulder, Jinah’s eyes danced with mischief and her cherry painted lips curved to form a delighted smile. “I’m not interested in your money,” she grinned cheekily, curling her fingers to bid the man goodbye. 

“And besides, you’re really not my daddy.”