[center][h2][color=0054a6]Olin Ingersson Holmström[/color][/h2][/center]
[center][h3]Monday Morning, Apartment[/h3][/center]

 Olin's morning didn't begin as it usually did. There were few days of the week she woke up without the trace of vice on her breath or  between the sheets, but messing up the entire day for herself was on a higher pedestal than few minutes of high. In her mind, she could only think of what would happen if she played her cards right that evening. Getting to know people were important. Although a few of the city-people were faint in her mind, most of them were shadier than her. Those that weren't were between near and few. And, as she knew, if she played the curious to the right person, a few free drinks or at least a budding friendship would make up for the night prior.

 With that she forced herself out of bed before setting to the task of effectively 'cleaning' herself up. Though she always got a bit giddy at the thought of going to Swan Songs (even on casual occasions, as she had become almost a regular) the Jazz Evening was different. Almost a worst kind of different. Without a doubt most attendees would come in expensive dresses or tuxes - and dressing up made the teen a bit uncomfortable. A full-on suit made her feel like... Well, a rear end. But there was no way she could go in her usual get-up as she didn't exactly feel like ruffling too many people's feather's that evening. She groaned while looking into her wardrobe, peering through her more formal attire, [color=0072bc]"Ruffling feathers... What the hell am I, old?"[/color]

 After a few moments of pondering that question she'd managed to scrounge something together. A slightly wrinkled, navy button-up with small white angles patterned throughout it. That combined with a black sports coat and khaki slacks were enough to give the impression she at least tried. Just not very hard, and a picture of her parents shaking their heads flooded her mind. But she definitely wasn't old and exactly how many people her age was willing to wear a suit, anyway? She ironed the clothes out before taking a trip to the shower. Once she stepped out she brushed her teeth, careful to make sure every single nook got touched. All of this was done-so in a casual manner as if she had all the time in the world. Then there came the tedious task of styling her hair. She carelessly weaved a pomade-covered hand throughout it to create a sleek, shiny, bed-ridden look. Afterwards all she had to do was not mess up dressing herself. And then afterwards - and she was sure of it, awfully, awfully sure of it - that evening would spill in the morning.

[center][h3]Monday Evening, Swan Songs[/h3][/center]

 There was no fighting the time. Olin was late. She partially blamed it on waking up an hour later than she had planned. Partially on the long walk (which she had obviously known of prior) from her apartment to the record shop. Then there was that small part that wanted to blame her dad. He was the one, after all, who had discouraged her from putting on a watch before she was fully dressed. Whatever the reason she groaned, hoping that the place hadn't grown too packed. It took a bit more walking before the shop got into her view. Before that happened she craned her neck, looking around.

 Odd. A traffic jam. Some lanes were at a near, complete standstill and other's were full of cars attempting to get over. Beyond that were some rather... Shady-looking figures (and by that, she meant law enforcers) that seemed to be the cause of it. They didn't seem to care much about pedestrians - except the odd few that nearly stumbled into traffic - so she was able to continue her rapidly shortening journey.

 Olin opened the door up to Swan Songs whilst trying to shake the feeling that something was a bit off. She couldn't exactly remember if the traffic directors were SCPD or not, and although the evening was a large event... Did it really warrant them? Her thoughts seemed to pan out the slightest as she took in the landscape. The dancefloor was filled with sweaty, bodies, then there was the sound of jazz funneling into her ears. A few groups of minglers had already begun to form, but to her, the diamond in the rough was past all of that. The bar.  She slunk on over as she noticed two other figures occupying seats. One was what she remarked as a beautiful woman who she'd never seen before, seemingly ready to get up. The other was a man that embodied the look of a sleek, gentleman. He had his stool turned, as if drinking in more of the atmosphere than his drink.

 She sat at the bar before tossing a charming smile at the bartender. At a more up-scale event it was hard to tell if getting carded was a risk or not, but usually if you didn't appear anxious, they would supply you with all of the vigor you needed. [color=0072bc]"Whiskey, straight."[/color]

 There was a brow cocked in her general direction before the shot was slid over to her. She paid up before sloshing the liquid around the slightest. After completing the short ritual she downed it, allowing the liquor to fiercely kiss her throat. Maybe another and that would be it. Then it'd be the time to socialize.