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[ she's practically a beacon of light in the otherwise dimly lit establishment, all blond hair and pretty white skin. basically, she's the kind of girl that his father warned him against having any sort of lasting relationship with. good for dating, not for marrying. have fun with them, but when it comes time to get serious, get serious with your own kind. a nice pakistani girl, he always said. but they're no more his kind than the pretty white girl with the silky blond hair. but his father doesn't seem to get that. it's also impossible to tell him that it's completely hypocritical to say something like that when he, himself, married a white woman.
sitting with his back against the bar, he lets his eyes wander past the few patrons, mostly people he sees when he's working ( why did he let sal talk him into coming here on his day off? ), with a few unfamiliar faces scattered here and there. like that one girl, sitting with a few people who he assumes are her friends ( acquaintances? people she vaguely knows? ) and he can't help but admire her. all of them really. they just make such a cohesive looking group. or maybe what he thinks is admiration is really just jealousy.
they're a lot less likely to call you a creep if you go over and speak to them, ray ]
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