(Third POV)
The bar Vince had chosen wasn't loud.
It wasn't wild.
It was the kind of place that catered to expensive taste pretending to be casual — amber lighting, sleek leather booths, polished counter, the faint smell of citrus and alcohol blending together in the air like something deliberate. A place that didn't scream party, but whispered indulgence.
Perfect.
"See?" Vince announced grandly as they entered. "Classy chaos. My specialty."
"You just like places with dim lighting so people can't fully judge your outfits," Jeff replied.
"Incorrect. My outfits deserve mood lighting."
They claimed a long rounded booth near the side of the bar. By some effortless miracle (or suspiciously perfect planning), Vince slid in right beside Lara.
"Come on," he said lightly. "You're my bowling partner. We lost together. Trauma bonding."
"I didn't lose," she corrected coolly. "You were the one showboating."
"And you laughed," he grinned. "Therefore, I win emotionally."
