PickledCandyPants07

     The sun sets on a smokey interior, housing hundreds of patrons eager to gamble their wallets. The air is coated with a thick musk, dimly lit with hazy lights, and full indistinguishing laughter and brood figures. At the end of the ornate room is a beacon, at which a tall and slim woman sings a monotonous tune.     Orange fills the club room, reflecting off the chandeliers and heavy sets of jewelry that mound on the members of the club. The day fleets while the night rallies the crowd to a commotion. Near the glow of the stage sits the man of honor on a garnished throne. He has a hulking silhouette and sits motionless, diligently gawkin