Maybe we should trust Bob [Saphy]

"... Huh.."

Fuck hospitals. Sure, those people were responsible for saving her life multiple times and all, but does it really matter if she were to overdose in the morning and died? No one would remember her anyway. Unlike her old days when she was on the road with her band, nowadays the only words that were associated with the girl were all negative- though, most of them were actually true to a degree. She was a bad role model, especially to the younger generation, that's for sure, but there's a damned good reason why there's parental advisory stickers plastered across the covers of their albums.

Yet, the most negative critics weren't about her music. Actually, a lot of people claimed that she was on her way to being one of the legendary greats that helped spark a movement in music, despite only having released 4 albums in over a few years. Those people were all critical about the way she acted. How she wouldn't hesitate doing what she feels was right, no matter the consequences, and just how she wouldn't ever have second thoughts about the most outrageous things.. like that time where she only taped up her nipples on stage, just to see how far she could get away with pushing censors to the limit.

Getting back on track here, the last time the girl came to this place was the night before her overdose. Apparently injecting a foreign substance into your body and having it mix with alcohol was not a smart thing to do. Come to think of it now, she even wore the same black figure-hugging leather outfit that she wore that very night. After parking her bike up front and storing the keys between two places that's supposedly filled with men's hopes and dreams, Leanna decided that it wouldn't really hurt to get a drink or two going since she's already here anyway.

The ringing of that familiar bell symbolized the entry of another potential customer. Even at this time of day, there were already a few others- probably regulars, hanging around and drinking. Of course, she'd draw her fair share of attention, being the only female in the room right now. Almost instinctively, the girl wandered over to one of the isolated seats in the room and fished out a cigarette, wedging it between her lips, only to silently cuss to herself when she realized she left her lighter at home.

".. Meh."

Huh..

That other French girl wasn't here. Guess even alcoholics needed some time off away from these things, huh? Well, Leanna doesn't consider herself to be addicted to booze. Usually, her wallet would empty out before she even feels a slight buzz. Additionally, she had no idea that this place actually had a server, but then again, she couldn't really remember much from her first visit after almost dying again.

On this particular day, Mr Young Looking Albino Dude took orders and poured the drinks. It didn't take long before he finally figured out where she sat. The offering of a lighter, being a customary thing and all that the bartenders would often offer to their clients if there was ever the need for it, did not come as much of a surprise to the pink haired leather clad biker chick, and all she even did was pucker up her lips, extending the cigarette out a little further, as if she were motioning for him to light it up.

Whether he chooses to or not, the cigarette would be lighted up one way or another, and Lord knows this wasn't the only thing she came here for. 

"Whiskey. On the rocks."

Not exactly a person of many words. She wasn't here to make friends. She didn't move to a foreign country just so she could start over. All she came here to do was to live the rest of her life being a relative unknown, even though she'd get weird glances time and time again.

For a lot of people, smoking is harmful not only to your lungs, but to your voice as well. Over the years, there has been a lot of singers who smoke and eventually lose their signature sound, but for Leanna, she's never really had those issues. Despite being only twenty five, she's already smoked for more than a decade. If one knew her enough to ask her when she picked up her first bud, she'd probably fake her answer by saying she forgot, but in actuality, she remembers the exact details. Twelve years old, stole it from her dad, didn't like it at first, but eventually grew into it.

And now she smokes roughly fifteen cigs on a normal day.

There are most definitely exceptions to the rule, but those days vary depending on what she could get her hands on, and how much her dealer supplies her with. On days like these, booze and smokes are the only things available, They don't feel nearly as good as they did when she was younger, but then again, everything's effective when its newly introduced.

Leanna wouldn't say that she hated those types of people who would try just about anything to initiate a conversation, despite knowing that the person they're trying to talk to had absolutely no interest whatsoever in responding- well, actually she would, but it was partly her own fault for being so damn introverted. Still, she had her reasons that she felt were justified. Wrapping her leather-clad fingers around the base of her glass, the girl lifted it up to her lips and took a generous sip before sighing with content.

One of these days, she wanted to try those with a higher alcohol content, but those didn't come cheap, and she's heard that they don't really taste that good either, so why bother? If the usual ain't broke, don't fix it.

But yes, she wasn't going to respond.

Honestly, what makes him think that just because she ignored the first question, she'd automatically develop the want to answer his second? It won't happen. She came here to smoke and drink privately, and sure, although she could have just bought a bottle or two and headed home, sometimes it was rather enjoyable to be out in the open. Well, enjoyable, when she wasn't surrounded by idiots trying to make conversation.

And so, the silence continued. At the time, the other customers had already left the bar, presumably in search for something else to do, or to give their wives a logical excuse as to why they reek of alcohol in the middle of the day when they get home. She on the other hand, fished out her phone and started clicking in some words in a notepad. Sometimes, a concept just comes naturally to her, and her mind, in spite of how clouded and filled up with drugs, would make out the words and form them into complete sentences which may or may not rhyme, depending on the mood she's trying to set. Yes yes, she's not a recording artist anymore, but that doesn't mean she can't have the right to express herself in words.

It must have been weird, with a leather clad biker chick writing poetry while sipping on some whiskey. Still, this was probably the only productive thing she'd ever do with her life. Songs about pain, anguish, sorrow, fear, disease, and pretty much everything that makes this world what it is. Leanna definitely was not the Shakespeare of her era, but she was fine with it. Hell, she grew up reading his work, salivating over how much realism is applied in his tales. Not everything requires a happy ending to be impactful, and his work will forever transcend the boundaries of literary masterpiece.

If anything, she felt lucky that so many people were able to connect with her work and support her for as long as they did. Even though now, most of them had long turned their backs on her, it was still fun while it lasted.

Sometimes, Leanna wished she had enough funds to support herself, but even if she did, she'd probably just spend it all in one night, going on an all out drinking, smoking and drugging spree. A lot of people have told her to stop, including those doctors from the hospital where she often ends up whenever she overdoses, but she never really listens. They've even tried funding her a trip to a rehabilitation center just to stop her bad habits, but that never worked out, and she escaped out of that hellhole by climbing through their barbed wired fence. Hey, a few cuts is worth enduring, rather than for her to have to suffer through months of grueling stupidity.

Its not that she didn't want to stop. Obviously, those thoughts have crossed her mind once or twice, especially those times directly after she's injected herself with whatever substance she had managed to get her hands on, but the problem was, she had no reason to. The only reason why she moved over here to Japan, aside from trying to avoid the paparazzi and all the other media outlets that were constantly invading her privacy and trying to get the inside scoop of what her condition's deteriorated to, was so her friends and family wouldn't be able to see how she's like now. No one needs to see how she's like, and how she chose to spend the rest of her life wasting away.

After downing her first glass, she raised it and swung it back and forth, awaiting for the server to refill her order. It was late evening, and she was definitely getting hungry after a day of only stale bread and a small can of coffee, but she didn't really have enough money to afford a good meal at the moment. Well, not unless she gave up on booze for the rest of the night, which was highly unlikely.

Writing definitely felt like one of the most relaxing activities in the world, and despite the fact that Leanna's making up songs that would probably never see the light of day, she still felt pretty satisfied by what she managed to come up with in such a short period of time. Although she wasn't the type of person who wouldn't put the pen down unless they're finally finished with whatever it is they were working on, she had all the time in the world. Its not as though the bar would be closing anytime soon, given how its only dinner time and places like these usually start welcoming more people later in the evening.

What she didn't expect, however, was the arrival of three masked men, barging directly into the bar. While one of them stood guard on the door, presumably to keep anyone of them from getting out, the other two started fishing out weapons from underneath their jackets, and you know they mean business when the appearance of guns came along. One of the guys walked up to the bar counter and tossed over an empty bag towards the male server while simultaneously pointed towards him with his firearm. "Money. Bag. Now."

Well, at least they were keeping it short and sweet. The other criminal, however, seemed to have taken a bit of an interest in the only customer in the room, to the point of him motioning towards her with his gun, as if to tell her to drop everything she's holding and stand up. Of course, given the nature of their current situation, she couldn't really do anything but to oblige. Hopefully there was some sort of defense alarm system trigger-thingy that this bar had kept handy, because Leanna for one had no fucking clue what to do.

Really? Of all the things they could have told her to do, they wanted her to strip? Really, she had no issues with that, but it really pisses her off to no end people assume that her voluptuous body is the only reason why she succeeded in the music industry. Aside from that one time with the tapes on her chest, which was.. probably the reason why those false claims started in the first place, she hasn't worn anything that would be deemed controversial in any way, shape or form.

Then the gunshot happened.

Leanna hadn't expected that. Petty criminals like these, who would go to such lengths just to rob a bar, it seemed like they were desperate to get their hands on some fast cash. Well, either that or they were training for something bigger. Either way, if they were willing to open fire on a dude's shoulder when he's already doing exactly what it is they demanded, she had absolutely no idea what would happen to an expendable innocent bystander.

Then again, she wasn't really afraid of dying, was she?

Come to think of it now, how many times has it been? Normal people- if they're unlucky, go through only a handful of near death experiences. Leanna, on the other hand, if you exclude all of the times where there were technical faults with the pyrotechnics on the stage during her performances, or the countless riots that broke out because of cancelled appearances and whatnot, she'd still have an NDE count of around.. 25. And as you can guess, most of those are drug and alcohol related.

Still, with the current situation, its not really something she could decline. She did feel bad for the server though, with how there's now a bullet wedged in his shoulder and all. If only there was some way for her to know that there actually was going to be help coming their way soon enough, And plus, who knows if those bastard criminals are even considering letting them leave this place alive later on.

However, as a plan slowly unfolded in the back of her drugged up mind, the girl daringly walked towards the man who made those demands, despite the nagging voice in the back of her mind claiming that he'd shoot her right then and there. 

"I have a better idea.." The girl spoke, trying to sound as sexy and as confident as she could muster out in a time like this. As she leaned down slightly, making sure that his eye level was directly proportional to her chest, she slowly started to undo the zipper below her neck. "Maybe if you take a seat.. I'll show you a real good time."

Needless to say, that little scene pretty much drew all the attention in the room towards her, and all three criminals, at that very moment, had been overcome by more lust than greed.