At the Moulin Rouge

We finally step into the bar, where some of the crowd indulges in song and dance. But most shift awkwardly and look around at others. The place is packed with patrons, but their gazes never meet, no smiles surface on faces, and glasses hold only empty conversation. Under the dim lights, a green glow reflects on a patron's face, her red lips failing to conceal a vacant stare. The energy at the bar is low, but the night is young and there is still plenty of time for this party to pick up steam.