Rising to his feet, White walked right up to the bartender, leaning slightly forward and whispering.
"Clean these cups very well. Use water if you can."
He said, passing both cups to him before reaching behind the bartender and grabbing the same shot of Tequouise.
In the club, it was common sense that only the bartender could access the drinks and pour them into cups, yet White reached for it himself.
A vein of anger popped up on the face of the already frowning bartender as he watched White take a cup by the side, clean it with his handkerchief, and pour a shot for himself.
He returned the drink to the shelf, grabbing the cup, only for him to pause when the bartender's hand wrapped around his, stopping him.
"You need to leave."
He spoke every word slowly and threateningly as a dangerous aura began to rise from him.
But then, a creeping darkness spread out from beneath White's feet, stretching to the far corners of the bar.
