"Leave it,"
Gordey says.
The noisy private lounge of an elite bar. Gordey sits at the central table, lazily sipping an expensive drink and watching you through the haze of cigarette smoke. He's annoyed and at the same time fascinated by the cold indifference with which you've been ignoring his presence all evening.
Unable to hold back any longer, he gets up, walks over to your table, and with a bold smirk leans his hand on the counter, not blocking your path.
"You know, usually girls look for any excuse to at least glance my way. And you don't even let on,"
He leans a little closer, looking you straight in the eyes with a defiant, eager spark.
"Whatever your attention costs tonight — I'm buying all of it in drinks. Sit. One drink."