Ryker

Ryker glared determinedly out the glass elevator. No matter what she said, no matter what anyone said, he had to do this.

The teenager stepped out of the elevator and into a dark crowded room, his knee-high black boots clacking on the shining floor beneath them as he wove through the variety of species that frequented the shady establishment.

"What'll it be?" a bartender's nasally voice assaulted his ears as Ryker leaned on the counter.

"One visitor's glass, please," he said, glancing around to see if anyone was listening.

"Might take awhile," the bartender said, a tentacle emerging from under the counter and pushing a sloshing glass toward him. "We're rather full at the moment."

Ryker took the glass but didn't drink, sitting as he waited what seemed to be ages for the bartender to glide back over to him.

"Your visitor's glass is ready, but you'll have to go through that door to get it."

Ryker nodded his thanks, standing from his seat as he strode toward the unassuming door.