Serving a chocolate martini to a middle aged women and then a whiskey sour to another man, she collected the money and watched them walk away, not letting the displeasure of their small tips show on her smooth face as she tucked the few bills away in her cleavage, again tending to the cash register. Sasha was midway through the transaction when she heard Derek call for another drink, offering him a nod and a flirtatious smile.<br/><br/>She shoved the drawer closed, grabbing a new glass with ice to prepare his second drink, her eye catching the bottle of pills on the bar, but quickly shrugging it off. Sasha was aware of his addiction, though considered it minor to many of the guests who often arrived on a trip and left a few hours later completely passed out after making a fool of themselves. She'd had her own run with drugs, though short as it was, and for that, as well as her position here at the Masquerade, she wouldn't pass judgement.<br/><br/>Placing the cool, sweating glass before him, Sasha went ahead and gathered up her money. Her first rule was never to leave money sitting out unattended. More than once she'd had customers swipe it on her and the money came from her paycheck. "Thank you, Sir," she purred, taking another drink, her tongue stroking over her top lip, perhaps a bit more slowly than it should have once she drained the glass.<br/><br/>"So enlighten me.." She began, leaning atop the bar on her elbows, pressing her breasts together to the point where they almost refused to stay confined in her revealing top. "Clearly, you're a wealthy man. You're also devilishly handsome, but you already know that.. So why are you here?" She often thought it was lonely men and women who spent their time here: people who's lives were living hell, who needed an escape. Sure, Derek might have needed just that, but he seemed so different than the usual kind of people who considered themselves patrons of this place..