The noise of the bar created an almost claustrophobic effect, overlapping voices speaking over eachother and shouting across tables, incomprehensible among the crowd unless it was your ear they were talking into.
Visually, it was a honeyed blur of browns and blacks with the occasional burst of colour from a dress or bright cocktail, a cozy, but busy mess of shapes that all melded into one in the peripheral vision of the girl waiting at the bar.
Clara leant forward, heels rising ever so slightly off the ground, trying to catch the eye of the painfully slow bartender who seemed unmotivated by the clamouring, impatient row of students. The tired man’s eyes finally lock with her own greys for a second, before flicking down to the small girls chest. He’d guiltily avert his gaze a second later, asking her what she wanted, but in that second he couldn’t help but drink in the nineteen year old’s pale, freckled skin as she smiled back at him eagerly.