Under the cover of darkness, a young man tapped his finger on the table at the Nouveau bar, seemingly waiting for someone. Several people glanced at his table, the small part of his face that they could see pulling at their heart strings.When he finally looked up, some women poked their friends in the ribs, not wanting to be the first to go speak to him.He had a contrasting sort of handsomeness. His face was exuding a confidence that bordered on ruggedness, but his energy was gentle, soft, deceitful. Like a carnivorous flower, beautiful and inviting on the outside, but stick your hand in and it would clamp down.He looked at a red head near the bar and winked. She shyly looked down. He let out a laugh. It had the consistency of a bell, slightly raspy and jaded.“You seem to be enjoying yourself, Arlo”, a short middle aged man came to sit beside him, a small smirk on his face.“Mr Rowan. Long time no see.”Mr Rowan looked like a tired accountant in a cheap suit, but in this city, he
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