.business, meet pleasure.

“Hello, my name is Business,” said the young lady.

“And I’m Pleasure.”

“We’re here to buy the bar?” she continued.

“Yeah?” the scruffy bartender scoffed. You look like tramps to be honest. With who’s money?”

“Your mum’s,” Pleasure retorted cooly and unaffected.

“Are you twins?”

“Fratenal” they quipped together.

“Did your parents give you those names? Cause its sounds like your parents were ratchet as fuck,” he sneered, baring his discolored mangled teeth.

His delight at the supposedly clever insult was short-lived, because he barely had time to register Pleasure’s on-coming punch before his body was hurtled back towards the stacked spirits behind him. The fairy lights and the neon sign that said, “Kiss The Bartender”, which decorated the wall above were shorted out.

“Was that necessary?” Business asked in a sigh.

“His disrespect was unwarranted. What would you have done?” her brother responded.

“Fired him after we bought the friggin’ place.”

“That’s a bit too bougie for my liking, I’m good luv, enjoy.”

“Whatever ‘Les.” Business muttered, brushing off the conversation

By this time, paying customers had now gone from their hushed tones to disquieted grumbles of dissatisfaction.

“What the fuck did you do that for!’ One man yelled.

“Did you not hear how he disrespected me and my sister?”

“All I heard was the sound of the alcohol WE PAY FOR, being smashed to shit.” Nods of agreement were normalizing the situation more.

“I’m sorry sir, I truly apologize. It was not our intention to ruin your night. Please accept these coupons for free entry into our bar and nightclub Chale Red, valid until 3pm today. Take two for yourself and give one to everyone else. It’s literally two doors dow-“

“YOU OWN THAT PLACE?!” chirped a disbodied squeak.

Probably a woman, early thirties. Pleasure thought to himself.

The question came from somewhere next to the high-placed window, covered in dust, cobwebs and sticky fingerprints, which grabbed Business attention for a split second.

It made her shudder, but she soon responded to the talking window.

 “Yeah.”

“But you’re just kids!” continued the chirping window, which drew a nervous laugh from the crowd

The pair shared a look of fatigue and shook their heads in unison, tired and over it.

You could tell that they heard stuff like this all the time. Stuff that judged them negatively based off their appearance. Comments like the bartenders weren’t even the worst of it.

But they were certainly up there.

And to be honest with you, it wasn’t too long ago that they increasingly found themselves in situations like this. And they had really only begun to experience the worst of it.