"It's been a pleasure having you here Claes, if you don't mind me calling you that." She downs the last of her drink, then takes her hand, shaking it firmly. "I'm sure I'll be talking to you soon."
Rose entered the bar, albeit weary of what may happen. Within the smell of drinks, death and drugs was the homely taste of cheaply plastered metal. After stepping in, there seemed to be no turning back for Rose, it already felt like a paradise to her. She took a seat at what appeared to once be prison bench and waited for someone to walk past.