Once Hank realized that she in fact did work at the club, he knew that she had come over for one reason. To sell him. On a drink, a dance, etc. Once he realized that it were all an act. A shame. The strut in her walk, the gaze in her eyes, everything right down to her culivated smile. Strangely enough, he had been all the more intrigued.

"Are you enjoying youself?" Breanna asked, slowly taking her eyes off the stage and turning towards Hank. Reconnecting the all but lingering lust.

"Yeah..." Smiling, Hank anwsered puzzled. For he wasn't sure why she, and everyone else felt the need to ask him. Not that he in fact looked as if he were about to call it quits on life. Yet he couldn't help but feel subconscious about thier comments, becasue he in fact wasn't having a good time. Not really.

"Can I ask you something..." He said to Breanna, whom at this point was showing interst, but unlike the others wasn't over the top, plastic and robotic. Speaking lines as if they were reading off a page. Even if she did use what could be known as a general opening line within those four walls.

"Sure, you can ask me anything I'm an open book."

"Do I really look that miserable." Hank tried his hardest to say it with a straight face, although he couldn't help but crack a smirk. A defense mechanism to sheild him from anything resembling realism.

She could pick up on his tone, although she didn't usually go off quote. Taking a chance she did. Think twice Breanna did not.

"I mean kind of. Honetly I'm not into girls, and even I appear to be enjoying myself more then you and I'm at work." Witty, sly and luscious. The tone of her voice, her mannerisms as she delivered the words. Flirtatious, fun and lighthearted. A perfect clash of criticism and building of desire. Of sex appeal.

Hank seeked the truth, although what he got had been slightly more then he barged for. He opened his mouth as he were about to speak. Then pauses ever so abruptly. "I got nothing... Right you are, miserable I am. Not enough beer and boobs can break the lock of my hindered soul."

Without trying Hank somehow managed to make his remarks ever so light, fluffy even. Airy and free, flightatious.

"It's good you don't want to talk about it, I completely understand. I'm a horrble listener, so it's probably for the best." Eyes glued to the girl whom is occuping the stage. Turning her head ever so adjust. Only enough to see Hank's recaction.

"Don't do that. Don't be honest. You say your a horrible listener, but please, please  if you hear anything I say tonight. Let it be known no one comes here for honest conversation." Hank went on to say, although he couldn't much more out. Mansplaining or trying ever so to Brenna how to do her job.

"I'm sorry, are you trying to manslain to me how to do my job?" She asked. Voice a little higher in tone then which had been her normal volume, yet never the less a smle accompanied her face. A flawless smile. One in which was breathtaking. Hank finially getting a full facial glimpse of all her beauty.

"I'm sorry, what?" He looked at her completely confused. Thrown completely off by her expression and lingo to which he has yet to hear.

"Mansplain. Man explain. Tell me how to do something, because you don't think I know how to do it." She spoke slow. He never took her eyes off her, not even when he throw money on the stage, tipping the dancers, without looking where the money went, or even whom or what had been happening up there.

He didn't noticed Breanna noticed this. Sliently taking note of the fact that even though he wasn't paying attention or watching the show. He still tipped those performing. Something that didn't often happen.

"You really have no idea what I'm talking about. Do you?" She said smirking, watching as if he haad been attracted to this different approach she took.

"No, I don't have a clue. But all means, please, don't stop on that account." He said, letting out what could be seen as the closest thing to pure joy he's expressed all night.

Taking note to his expression, she couldn't help but wonder. Is this turning him on. Does the cliché  of the beautiful girl throwing herself on him no longer intrigue him. Has he occupied gentleman's club so much, the novelty, the simple escape of being there is hinder by tolerance.

"All I was trying to say was, no one... I mean, I didn't come here for a honest conversation.If I wanted to woo my sorrows about life over a beer I would have went to dive bar. Had a meaningless conversation that suppose to mean something with a bartender who pretends to care  for tips."

Smirking, without taking her eyes off the stage. In that moment she knew what she thought to be true. Tolerence it was. Little did he know, dive bars mutated into hipster hang outs and drowning one's sorrows over a drink to a bar tender isn't a thing anymore. Not like it once was.

"So why did you come here? To drink a beer and flirt with beautiful woman who pretend to care for tips?" She said with an odd sense of insight.

"Your good. Close, but no. I came here to wallow in self pitty while I drink a beer. Dive bars are morbit and depressing. Unlike this place. A place with an amazing view. A view to get lost in, escape from the reality of life. A place where it is more then socailly acceptable to drink alone. Even though, one is never alone for long. "

"Wife, ex-wife, baby momma, future ex-wife, future baby momma?" Breanna start listing off varies female roles in his life that could be problematic and cause such distress, all while being utterly witty, lighthearted and sarcastic as hell. 

"Again, almost. You're good. Are you studying to be a psychiatrist? Pre-med maybe?" He starts blurting off medical field personnel, mimicing her tone and trying to match her uncharting charsima. Although falling short, he still manages to get her attention.

"Lawyer actually." She said correcting him. Partly anyway.

"I can see that. Final year, getting ready to graduate and move onto a fabulous career." Hank said more then asked. Judging her by her lack of drive and desire to make money, that school had already been paid for and she was simply coasting though whatever time she had left here.

She smirks. Pausing for a minute. Studying his facial expressions, mannerisms and lack there of. "I acutally already graduted... And I passed the bar." She said with a heavy relief.

Her breath sounded a lot harder on her exhale then thought, or intended. Coming out strong and hard. A sweet release. Being able to say it aloud. Being able to let her accomplishment live in the night air. Although that feeling didn't last. It fleed without notice or cause.

"Congratulations." Hank said with a genuie smile. "I feel like a toast would be the right move. Offer to buy you a congratulations drink to celebrate you achieving such an accomplishment... Although I can't help but think your not that excited about being a lawyer as you should be... At least as much as one would think you would be..."

Hank stares at her even more ogled now. Seeing something in her that he didn't think he would ever see in someone else. At least not in this situation. A fellow person in a similar conundrum.  A fellow millennial with their path set ahead of them, with anything but the desire to walk the path of sucess and happniess.

"I guess what they say is true...It takes a wallower, to see another wallower in the wild ." Her tone is light and flirtatuous as it has been, although her facail expression ever so bleakly speaks a different story.  One in which only Hank seems to see.

The happiness is all gone. Sucked out of her like a helium ballon being inhaled for giggles. At first the balloon's appearance doesn't change. No, not at first. Then slowly it becomes something else. Takes a different form. Yet for reasons unknown for the first few hits, only the person breathing in the helium knows it's form is changing continuously. Most don't know until it's near it's end wit.

"Since you don't want to talk about it.." Hank begins to speak then pauses, rasing his hand slightly to grab the bar tenders attention. "I guess well just have to wallow in silence about it over a drink."

"Who said I wanted to wallow about it over a drink?" Smirking, her eyes on him, without turning she tells Jennifer behind the bar her order. A bourbon on the ice.

"Make that two." Hank says, still making her eye contact. Jennfier smiles, going on making thier drinks.

They wallow in harmony as the next few songs play out over the loud speakers. Girls do their sets, collect their tips. Both tip. Interact slightly and wallow extraordinary panache. Neither break eye contact of the stage, not even to glance down at their drinks.

Then out of the blue, Hank desides it's time. Their silence went on for to long. The air felt too tense. The situation began to feel real, troublesome. Perhaps. Although truthfully he doen't know why the words arose from him. Which never the less were apart of his problem.

"I never thought my life would turn out like this.... Miserable...Stuck between the life I want and the live I lead.... I can vividly rememebering this Boy Meets World episode where Corey's dad and mom just got home from the grcoery store of the year awards. His dad just won the life time achievement award. He comes home and he's miserable. Saying something like are you disappointed that I didn't build bridges instead of working at a groery store. To which she replied, no. There was a pause to which she continued. I never knew you wanted to build bridges. Why if you wanted to build bridges, did you ever stay with the company. To which he said, and here's the kicker. I don't know. They just kept on promoting me and giving me awards. I just never turned back. He spent his entire life doing something he didn't want to do, just because the opportunity was there. He just kind of settled Settled into success, but settled never the less. Does it make it okay to settle in life, if it means you make a good living and can support a family, buy a house, do what your suppose to do?"

She doesn't say anyhing at first. Just allows him to wallow in his own misery for a few seconds. "So you are Coery's dad in this siutation, working a job you don't partically like just becaue it's there. Instead of building bridges...."

She says smirking, finally making eye soild eye contact. Looking, searching, trying to figure him out. Wondering what made him tick. Why he felt the way he did.... For she could relate, or so she thought.

"Pretty much.... I mean I always kind of knew I would have to sell my soul one day. I just honestly thought that it would much later in life. That I would have fought the good fight, before the world took me to my knees, so to speak. I never thought I would go willingly on the golden chariot."

"How many rounds did you go? Before throwing in the towel." She asked honestly intrigued. Slightly because she had began to wonder about Hank. What he really wanted to do. What were his inspirations. What did him in, and how long did it take. Was there any hope for her.

"I took the first offer they gave me, never looked back. I've been regreting it ever since."  Hank said. Truthful, sorrowful and completely honest. The desperation at a second chance echoed through the sound of his voice.

"Is that why you've been coming here the past few nights, to wallow away your sorrows in which you caused... I'm no expert, but aren't you a little young to be drinking alone, trying mask your sorrows of old age and regret? Or is that yet to come and this is your mid life crisis?.... Which even then I'm pretty sure your still a few years off." She quickly covers her mouth, making a fliratious guester with her comment.

The guester in which she spoke, Hank recieved it all the well in the right terms. Smirks, he places his hand over his chin as if he were an old wise man. "I age like a fine wine, bitter and sweet on the outside. Old and tired on the inside."

She gives him a hard look. Stares at him hopelessly. Goes to speak, then pauses. Tries to say something, but then agian can't find the words, or the air to surpress them from her lungs.

Until finally she utters out somthing. "I think I need to charge you fifty bucks just for having to endure hearing you say such a horrible, horrible, line in which I think was suppose to be fliratous and daring. Even if it wasn't. It never the less was boarder line creepy old man talk."

Shock and all overcomes his face, followed by a quick sign of humor and release. "Damn fifty dollars for horrible flirting. I hate to see how much you charge for a dance." Jokingly he pulls out his money and takes three twenty's off the top. "Extra ten for a tip."

Smiling, taken back by the idea that he actually intended to pay, or at the very least, offered to play along.

"I only charge thirty for dances." She said laughing.

"Damn double the price, and less then half the fun."

"Hey, the harder I have to work, the more you have to pay." She said humorously, looking as he is holding out the money. "I like you so the first one's on the house... You might have lost yourself a free dance, but on the plus side you saved yourself enough to get two." She said smirking.

"So if not the money, why do you do it?" He asked curiously and intriged but not prying and overwhelmingly. His tone never changing, so the change in conversation took her for a loop. 

"Why do I do what?" Answering his question with a question, not trying to aviod answering so to speak. Just taking him along for the ride if you will.

"Work here. If not for the money."

"That's mighty high of you. To think that I don't do it for the money and just for the thrills." Her reply had been firm but not in a way in which could confused for insulted or belittled, for she knew that wasn't his intention.

"You mentioned that you finished you law degree and already passed the bar. Which means your a lisenced lawyer. Even at base, you could probably make more at any private pratice then you would here. Not to mention, I've noticed you."

"You've noticed me." She said shocked, although not completely frazzled. For given the situation, clients staring and gaulking is something of normal behavior.

"The past few night's I've been here, you approached maybe three potional clients. I've only seen you give one dance, and your never got on stage. Where as all the other girls get on stage at least twice an hour and approach at least three guys an hour if bodies permit."

"That's oddly observant of you..... What are you an FBI agent? Private investigator?" She siad jokingly, although somewhat serious. "Should I start calling you Axel?"

"Saddly nothing so interesting. I work in warehouse management. Boring, but pays the bills and then some."

She looks around the room, the money he's throwing on stage. The money watt he held in his hand. "Then some... Nothing wrong with that I suppose. If I were most people I would probably say you were foolish to be pissed off and miserable that you have an opportunity such as you do. Of course I like most people don't know what that details, althoug unlike most I  see more then just the end result. For most, they think if only they had an opportunity to do something worth wild, they'ed be happy. But the grass is always greener where your shadow doesn't hide."

There was a momet. Not of silence so to speak. There was too much going on in the room around them for there to be true silence, but a moment of clarity between them. A moment they both realize the conversation evolved. Became genuine.

"I get it, believe me. In my family, our only responsibilities growing up were doing everything to ensure we got into the right schools, follow in the predetermined foot steps aline by our parents. They weren't as monstrous as you might think. Like they didn't shield us from the realities of the world. Actually they forced our faces in it. Told us that we needed to see the entire world as a whole if we were to know were we stood."

"So I take it they don't know you work here, and all your school and living expenses are more then taken care of." Hank said rather then asked. Although he wasn't sure and was taking a shot in the dark.

"Yes and yes.... Well, they are, but not the way in which your thinking. If they were how would I ever keep up the charade.... My grandparents left me a small, but decent inheritance. Even to do something, although with strings attached so I couldn't do anything."

"So much for living vi va loca on a beach somewhere." He said smirking, giving her a once over, imagining her half naked, laying on the beach. Even if the thought were slight and fleeing.

"Oh but I do get to spend quite a good amount of time there when I'm not craming for my bar exams." She said humoriously.

"The double life never takes a it's toll? I barely live one, no matter how much I'd like to believe I do and it feels like it's always right on my heels most days."

"Do tell. What is it that you hide from the world around you?" Asking with an everlasting interest. One he couldn't resist.

"Trying to balance the person I'm suppose to be, with the person I am. A guy who's suppose to have his shit together. When in reality, I barley know what I'm doing most days. Half the time I don't have a clue what the fucks going on. I'm on the verge of completely loosing my shit and I can't figure out for the life of me why I care so much." He said getting the burden of life off his chest.

"Fuck."  She mutters just staring at him blanky....

At first he says nothing. Just returns her glare. Trying to figure out what had suddenly starlted her. Turning around, looking behind him and everywhere in which her line of sight could have seen. Breanna still being completely silent.

"What, what's wrong?" He asked puzzled. For he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary.

"Your life has become office space, if it were morbt and completely realistic and down to earth. Like if they were to remake it today, the main charater would represent you to a T without a doubt... Worst part is, I too feel I am heading down that path, and it legit is terrifying. It's too late for you, but what should I do, do you have any advice?" Her tone so serious, yet overly dense and dramatic Hank, even without truely knowing her, could pick up on her sarcasm and mannerisms.

"Leave this place... Go chase your dreams...Whatever your dream is..." He pasues for a moment, for he realizes she never did mention what it is she wanted to do with her life, or why she worked at the club if not for the money.

"Sadly I think my chances and opportunities of becoming a playboy model are slim to none. Not to mention, I don't know if I want to do it anymore."

Completely in all by her answer, he only actually heard one part. Playboy model. "Your dream was to grow up and become a Playboy model?" He said, a little more shocking then he should have. All things considered.

"Yeah. I want to be a playboy model...." She stares at him, as he is staring at her. "What? Rory Gilmore grew up idealizing Hillary, which inspired her to want to go to Harvard and obtain a degree in poltical science.  I idealized Marilyn Monore. I wanted to become a sex icon and pose for  playboy, hopefully end up on the cover... Maybe Miss October."

"So why don't you?" The words came out of his mouth before he had time to register what he were saying. Never the less, the words flowed so easily simply beasue they roamed his mind daily, asking himself that same question. Why not quit.

"What I am suppose to do. Just give up everything, go to LA, walk into someones office, get naked and say I want to pose for Playboy?"

Although the question was rhetorical, Hank still felt the need to answer it.

"I mean,  I'm not sure exactly how that works, but I'm sure that's a good start. I just wouldn't strip in the lobby. No need to give the  secretary a free show,"

She playfully slaps his arm as she couldn't help but giggle. No matter how much she didn't want to encourge such behavior.

"Well unfortunately I don't think that's how it works . Not to mention if I did something like that, I would be disowned and completely cut off. I know there's more to life then money, and freedom's priceless etc. However nothing in life is free. So with freedom comes nothing, unless you have the moeny to pay for it."

"I'm sure you would make easily twice if not three times what you make here in Vegas, and all the while you could start your own site. Become an attraction. Being instantgram famous is the key, then set a link to a private site. The key to sucesss is to create a persona. First photo shoots and wallpapers. Get enough followers, get sponsored by lingerie compnays.. The possibilities are endless."  He said wide eye and smiling.

"Oh yes, it's so easy now a days to become a sex icon, all one needs to do is take off her shirt and post a picture on instagram with stars over her nipples and a link to her onlyfans." Playing into it, mocking him all the while, you could tell at some point she had given it a thought.

"Sadly that's our generation. Everything now is all about likes and followers. Hense, creating a persona. The girl next door, doesn't quite attract viewers like it did in the ninies and early ots.Now you gotta do something more edgy. Get fake tattoos, dye you hair blue and purple. Go by the name Lilith Moringstar. Lilith Moon, maybe  Lilith Hellfire? Lets face it, after the gothic scene era fazed out, now theres a real window of opportunity there. Guys who always wanted to sleep with the big titty gothic girl. The ones who did, but ended up marrying the girl the door. The one they could bring home to their parents. Nostalgia sells. Look at Star Wars. No matter how shitty the squels are, people flood the theaters to see them. Not because they're good, but because they remind them of a time when all was good in their lives."

"Do you work in marketing or do you work at a job you hate? Or did your dream job become something you completely hate, because you sound like you know what your talking about."

"No, I went to school for marketing as a ploy to try and do the job I wanted. Marketing and business are pretty much the same degree on paper so to speak."

"Not really." She said staring at him. Wondering to herself where the con is. "Do you really go to college or are you just a really good bullshiter? "

"I got a degree from a university in my home state for marketing. Marketing is a part of business. When you apply for a job, you check the box you have a degree, and in the follow box it asked in what. To employers it's all the same, because it's not a useless liberal arts degree." He said chuckling.

"I take it you wanted to get a liberal arts degee and your parents talked you out of it?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, your guidance councilor doesn't give a fuck what you go to school for as long as you go. They get credit no matter what your degree is in.  Your parents on the other hand, give a fuck, because when you can't get a job it's their basement you'll be living in."

She chuckles, he smiles for a moment then the realization overwhelms him. For even though it had meant to be funny. A joke, something to break the tension. There is undoubtedly so much truth to the words she spoke.

"Hell, not my parents. My dad told me, eightteen and thirty. Once I turned eightteen I had thirty days to get the hell out. That was unless I went to school for something he deemed reasonable. Then I had thirty days past gradutation to get the hell out."

"What did you want to go to school for?"

"Film. I wanted to write, direct and produce movies. I was orginally going to go to UCLA or NYU, but my parents talked me out of it. Getting over a quarter million in debt for a degree that wouldn't guarantee me a job after was foolish, a pipe dream. So I took the safe route went for maketing, something that could oneday lead into something close to what I wanted to do. Maybe get a job working commercials or ger a job at a beer company in their advertising department. Help create another iconic beer  commercial for a new generation. Although I don't think anything will top What's Up??" 

Laughing she just shakes her head. "Have you even tried to do anything to get closer to what you wanna do? "

"Yeah, but of course it's not as easy as I thought it would, nor is it even remotely feasible as one might think. No where nearly as simple as the all school administration declares it is once you obtain a degree from their establishment."

"You should write a book. You don't need anyone to do it. You can selfpublish it. Make your own way, on your own terms." Excited and hyper active, her energy is high, to outsiders looking in. The appearance would be nothing more then a performance. Never the less it just might have been the most genuine conversation either of them have had in a quite a while.

"Write it, and I'll buy a copy! I'll be your first offical sale." She said trying to reinsure him.

"Start an only fans and I'll be your number one fan. Hell create a persona, get a job in a club in vegas. I'll even come and see you opening night." He replied smiling. Making her energy.

She could see what he was doing, but she couldn't help herself. She was intrigued. Tempted even. "I'm being serious!" She said.

"Me too!"

"I'll make you a deal, you write your book and send me a copy and I'll start an onlyfans. I'll even give you a lifetime free pass."

Hank playfully puts his hand out, she in return grips it. Making the deal.

"I'll be waiting." She said playfully. "But unfortunately I have to get back to work."

"You have to get back to work? Aren't you technically working now?"

"I was at first, but then we started talking and the situation evoled." Smooth, but intense. Strong eye contact, soft voice.  A performace or another unfeigned guester. He just continues to gaze at her, still slightly confused.

"Evoled? Evoled how?"

"Orgianlly I came over to see if you would be interested in a dance. But then we started talking, having a sincere conversation. I wouldn't deminish that by ending things by asking you if you wanted a dance."

Completely and utterly unhypocritical, her smile ran shivers down his spin. Her gaze caused him to freeze up momentarily.

From all accounts she seemed to be forthcoming and honest. Although as much as he wanted to believe her, believe thier conversation had been anything more then a means to an end. A simply buisness transaction. He was left with an unsettling feeling.

He went to speak, but froze. Not that he couldn't think of the words. He simply didn't know if he truely wanted to open pandora's box. The world of the unknown, knowns. Did he really want the truth, or sometype of validation of a truth?

In the end his temtaion got the better of him. Couldn't leave good enough alone, for one reason or another.

"Would it diminish the conversation if I asked a dance?" Hesitant, choking on the words as he spoke them. Uncertain if he really wanted for to answer the question.

Surely he wanted to see what lied under her dress. Although he hadn't been so certain he desired to test the thoery, that everyone sells out. That genuine moments are ever fleeing, never truely existing past a certain point in life. That when you grow up, your heart does indeed die long before it stops beating.

Smiling she simply replies."When you come see me in Vegas, the first one's on the house. I won't even ask you to buy me a drink first." She said lighthearted.

"So dinner at the Steer after it is." He said smiling.

Breanna smiles, but doesn't say anything. As she's walking away Hank couldn't help but stare as she left. As she opened up the door to the back hall of the club, she stop and turned towards Hank.