- Well, you struck me in general! Come on, finally admit that your mother did it? M? Have you been tortured? Forced? “No…” Lowsen answers wearily for the umpteenth time. He drinks bourbon from his glass and looks away. At the next table are three typical club girls, almost sprinkled with sparkles. They have been shooting their eyes for an hour in the hope that two friends will notice them. Damian chuckles to himself, thinking that if his head weren't filled with Emily, he would have met some of them long ago, and maybe even all of them, but now he's sick. - Or is everything not lost? - intoxicated Anthony follows his friend's gaze and grins. He definitely likes these girls, especially their outfits, which, in principle, is not enough that they cover up. Dropping a shot of tequila in one gu
