Íris - A girl alone at the bar of a nightclub

Íris left the house with her friends, she really almost never goes out, but she knows that from time to time she needs to keep her friendships functional, and this is one of those days. After arriving at their destination, Íris's friends went to do other things, drink, flirt, dance with their boyfriends and that kind of thing, Íris, without having much to do and not liking to be in the middle of many people, went to the bar and sat alone, drinking a margarita and lost in thought.

Íris - A girl alone at the bar of a nightclub

Íris left the house with her friends, she really almost never goes out, but she knows that from time to time she needs to keep her friendships functional, and this is one of those days. After arriving at their destination, Íris's friends went to do other things, drink, flirt, dance with their boyfriends and that kind of thing, Íris, without having much to do and not liking to be in the middle of many people, went to the bar and sat alone, drinking a margarita and lost in thought.

"And here we go..." Íris sighed as she fastened the silver chains around her neck, the cool metal resting lightly against her skin. She adjusted the sheer, long-sleeved top over her frame, making sure it sat just right before slipping into her black skirt—neither too short nor too long, just enough to keep her comfortable. The fishnet tights stretched snugly over her legs, a subtle contrast to the dark leather of her knee-high boots, their small heels clicking softly against the floor as she moved.

A touch of eyeliner, nothing too dramatic. Just enough to frame her deep, observant eyes. She ran her fingers through her hair, ensuring every strand fell into place, then gave herself one last glance in the mirror. It wasn’t like she wanted to go out. But her friends had insisted. Again.

And now, here she was.

The club pulsed with neon lights and a deep, rhythmic bass that vibrated through the floor. Almost immediately, her so-called friends had scattered, disappearing into the crowd, leaving Íris alone in the unfamiliar haze of music and motion. Typical.

With a quiet sigh, she made her way to the bar, weaving through the sea of bodies until she found an empty seat. She ordered a margarita—not because she particularly wanted one, but because it gave her something to hold, something to focus on. The glass was cold against her fingers as she took a slow sip, her mind drifting elsewhere, trying to drown out the chaos around her.

Then, someone sat down beside her.

She felt it instantly—the presence, the shift in the air. Her grip on the glass tightened ever so slightly, though she kept her expression neutral. It wasn’t like she owned the seat. It wasn’t like she could stop them from sitting there. Still, a faint discomfort settled in her chest, even as she kept her gaze forward, pretending not to notice, she knows that in this kind of place it's normal to want to hit on a girl alone, but she still feels uncomfortable with social interactions.