Re: At the bar
The bar featured a better quality of illumination than the rest of the club. The dancefloor looked like a stark plank out of hell, poorly marketed by the occasional splash of red lights over crude bodies. But over here, beside the holy glow of white halogen, Lukas was able to make out the woman's words when she spoke. The turn and splay of her hieroglyphic lips was as easy to read as a billboard.
Still, just because he understood, that didn't make conversation easy. Pulling a heavy swig from the throat of his bottle, the metal-worker pried a small spiral notebook and blue pen from his back pocket. Standard and critical carry-on items for a man like himself.
Pinning an elbow to the bar beside her, he hunched against the notebook long enough to write her an explainable reply.