"[b]This... Isn't the vibe I was hoping for.[/b]" Drake looked past his tumultuously styled black hair to glare at the speakers, his icy blue eyes obviously annoyed with the unconventional attire that he'd been forced to wear. He stood uncomfortably in the front doorway, his trademark crimson jacket forgone in lieu of a tight red jacket with black designer jeans, giving him the appearance of a sharply dressed rockstar, or perhaps a model, rather than an infamous outlaw. The only giveaways to his true nature were his prosthetic arm--infamous in its own right--and a thin scar that began from below his left eyebrow to his lower cheek. Straightening out his suit, Drake calmly strolled towards the table that had been prepared for him, his icy blue eyes scanning the throngs of people for anyone who could be his potential guest. Colorado wasn't exactly the wingman type, so it was likely some sort of business deal. Drake didn't mind acquiescing his former crewmate's proposition, regardless of how uncomfortable this situation was. The music, the setting, the clothing... he hadn't worn this suit since he'd dated Celina.| Whoever this mystery guest was, they'd better be worth it.