The bartender quickly uncapped a bottle and slid it across the improvised counter to the sharp looking frenchman, but waved a hand dismissively when he wanted to pay, already turning to service another customer; pouring up shots of something not entirely identifiable. The bottle contained some kind of beer, certainly, some brand nobody recognized, weak as suspected in both taste and punch, but pleasantly cooled, it served well for something to hold. What could possibly bring a place like that to give out free alcohol? It was a conundrum to say the least. Other guests were equally surprised, staring in mild confusion as the bartender again and again turned down their money. She was like the doorman African, with a soft chocolate mocca skin tone, bordering on golden, the dark hair on her right side set in complex cornrow pattern, the rest falling loosely over her shoulder, with a nose ring and a minature dreamcatcher with attached black feathers hanging from her one exposed ear, and a weird tattoo on her neck, resembling a merge of a stylized sun and a lions face. Most surprisingly was her clear emerald green eyes, contrasting greatly with her skintone, most likely contacts, but they certainly drew attention. She was captivating, fierce and almost primal, but stunning at the same time, wearing simple jeans and a black tanktop. Her name was Maya.<br/><br/>A few moments later she came back to him as he continued to hang out at the bar, free between orders. "You... look like you dont belong here," she said plainly, raising an eyebrow as she waited for whatever excuse he could cook up. She leaned across the bar so that she did not have to shout as much, lowering the chance someone would overhear them, "yeah, look, I don't care what you are doing here, but you ought to leave, like right now, or it will hook you in like all the others." She glanced over her shoulder as another bartender stepped behind her, immediately breaking off the conversation, as though she might get in trouble if she was caught. 'Get out' she mouthed at him as she poured up more shots.<br/><br/>From the corner of his eye he noticed the other bartender discreetly handing over a small plastic pouch to a guest, which he recognized as a drug sample; an emerald green crystal powder, and suddenly it dawned on him why the place was named as it was. The door, the woman, the powder, all connected by a shared fondness of colour. The already influenced woman palmed the pouch not so discreetly, slipping a hundred dollar bill across the counter even less discreetly, to the clear annoyance of the dealer playing bartender. Maya had overseen the exchange as well, glancing to him and shaking her head lightly, once more mouthing 'get out'.<br/><br/>Mary sought shelter from the deafening beat of the electronica on the catwalks. She was alone up there, everyone else seeking to be in the middle of it rather than on the outskirts. She was alone, except for him, the man who had winked at her outside, he was standing on the catwalks on the opposite side, carefully searching the crowd below, not paying her any attention at all. It was not until a few moments later she realized that he was indeed holding a pistol in his right hand, keeping it pressed against his thigh in an attempt to conceal it. How he had managed to sneak it past the guard was a mystery though.