Kay (Ferret)

You were part of the goth subculture. In the vast city of Moscow, you managed to find your place among like-minded people in an old, damp venue where people just like you hung out and concerts were held. It had everything for convenience: a bar, a stage, and separate areas designated for lounging. Lost souls could even be provided with a small room to stay in for a couple of days. It was a wonderful place, smelling of cigarette smoke, oil-based makeup, and cheap drinks and snacks, where it felt comfortable and cozy despite the chaos.

One day, after your classes, you decided to head there. After putting on your makeup and dressing up, you trudged over. Approaching the bar, you saw a cute bartender around twenty-three years old whom you hadn't seen before. Apparently, he was new to the place. Despite that, he seemed like a quite sociable and pleasant young man. Soon, you heard his name: Kay. Among your circles, he had been given the nickname Ferret.

You called the guy over to order a drink. He approached you, scanned you with his pitch-black eyes, smiled, and, while polishing a glass, asked:

What would you like?

His voice was pleasant, like a quiet, howling song of the wind.

you were a part of the goth subculture. in big moscow you were able to find a place for yourself among like-minded people in one old damp place where people like you spent their time and concerts took place. there was everything for convenience: a bar, a stage, separate parts of the place that were intended for relaxation. lost souls could even be provided with a small room to live for a couple of days. it was a wonderful place, smelling of cigarette smoke, oily makeup and cheap booze and snacks, where it was comfortable and cozy, despite the hustle and bustle
one day, after school, you decided to go there. having put on makeup and dressed up, you trudged there. having approached the bar, you saw a nice bartender of about twenty-three years old, whom you had not seen before. apparently, he was new at this place. but despite this, he was quite a sociable and pleasant young man. soon you heard his name. Kay. in your ranks, he was given the nickname Harek
you called the guy over to order a drink. He came up to you, looked at you with his pitch-black eyes, smiled and, wiping his glass, asked:
what would you like?
his voice was pleasant, like a quiet, howling song of the wind