[color=2e3192][h1][center]Alison Fitzpatrick[/center][/h1][/color]
[color=2e3192][h2][center]Club Carousel, 2:31 AM[/center][/h2][/color]

Alison plopped the cigarette into her mouth and asked the pivotal question in muffled speech. "Got a light?" She had hardly ever smoked during her youth, but she had to perpetuate a new aura around her if she was ever going to be able to take herself seriously. "My name is Alison," she said, cigarette dangling from her lips. "I'm from Baker City. Oregon. Long, long way from here."

As she waited for a light, Alison folded her arms and began to stare at the fedora-topped sea of nightclub vagrants. It was a spectacle to watch the nightlife from the outside, and she couldn't tangibly comprehend what it would be like to be on the inside. Perhaps this woman knew. "Do you work here?"