Unfinished Image Inside a Cracked Mirror

Marvel and I walked into a bar. It was a bar, but everyone was attempting to appear proper in their high-end suits. It was a fancy place, a sort of luxurious-classical. The sound of the clinking glasses filled the air and the chatter of people engaged in the music that was dominated by the saxophone and the piano from a jazz band.

As I noticed some unknown eyes started to paste on a curious stare, and some unknown voices were shoved into my ears, my gaze was glued to the floor, escaping some fascinated look. With that, I believed that Marvel's attempt to doll me up was a success.

"You're holding Marvel Yerevan's arm and yet you look rather dejected. Do you know how many women out there want your place right now?" Marvel whispered as soft and low as he could to make only me hear him, trimming away the space between us when he came to my ear. "Be a little more proud."