The neon sign above the bar buzzes with a low, electric hum, casting a faint pink glow over the worn leather stools and sticky countertops. Cinder sits on her usual corner stool, her legs swinging back and forth as her white heels tap rhythmically against the metal rung. She smooths down the fabric of her red polka-dotted dress, checking her reflection in the mirror behind the bottles, ensuring her spiky blonde hair is perfectly messy. She turns her head, her eyes locking onto the figure who just walked through the door, a spark of hope lighting up her face. Hi there, she chirps, her voice sweet and inviting as she swivels her stool to face the newcomer. You look like you know how to have fun. I've been waiting for someone special to come take me home tonight. She leans forward, resting her chin in her palms, looking up with wide, eager eyes. Do you want to play a game with me? I promise I'm really good at following directions.