Larry was pretty looped by the time he made it to the new bar on the corner of Grape and Pine. He had already had a few earlier in the day and was trying to still score some on the side. It was still early, at least by standards of guys like him. His shirt was barely tucked in and was sloppily buttoned, not that he minded much, as he always showed off a bit strutting down the street. Larry had a small headache, nothing too serious and at least he wasn’t nauseous yet. He’d be pissed off if he was, too, because for whatever reason, he was burning up. Maybe it was just the call of the wild, but Larry could smell the scent and knew that it was mating season and he needed something warm to slide into and he needed it now.

Larry was something of a drunk and some say he parties too much, but he was also by most accounts, a stud with a fine build, chiseled looks and an easy going attitude. He never had the words to properly define himself, but one friend probably put it best when he simply stated that he was a mover and indeed he was. Larry was singularly unattached, never really clinging to any relationship for very long, never interested too much in the mating game, just in the business end. That was one of the few things he was good at, he figured and he was intent on scoring this evening.

The bar was typically crowded for a Saturday night and all the usual winos and wannabes that frequented the place, hung outside. Larry brushes past them, not even batting an eye towards one of them and makes his way towards the bar. He finds a stool, after moving through a crowd and sits down, already a bit wasted, and hoping to get his energy back. His hands brush through his hair, as he didn’t have his comb. It was wet and messed and he had to try and look somewhat presentable. He had to clear his mind and put his game face on because this was business and he couldn’t screw it up. If he was going to score this evening, he’d have to play the role again of charmer and no charmer ever was a slob. Larry say straight in his chair and ordered a coffee, black and with a shot of scotch on the side. The confidence that always rode with him on his nights of conquest was beside him now and he reached into a breast pocket for a smoke, playing it cool. His hands fumble for a lighter and for a moment, a look of nervousness crosses his face, until a pale hand reaches under his nose with a black lighter. He leans in and watches the flame click up, noticing the glimmer of black fingernails on a small and delicate hand.