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Unlike most of the other clubs in Upper Satellite, there is no line in front of this one. People walk by it, looking between you and the building with a look of disbelief tinged with jealousy. You approach the door, butterflies in your stomach, uncomfortable in the only white outfit you could find in your closet. A bouncer stands at the front, towering over you by almost a foot. Above her hangs a delicate white neon sign that you can’t help but to trace over with your eyes like it’s a map of the train routes and you’re desperate to find your destination.

The bouncer doesn’t say anything, instead raising one of her eyebrows at you and holding out her hand, calluses obvious on her palms, her fingernails painted a shade of red that stands out violently against the white of her pantsuit. You press your invitation into her palm, and she folds it open and reads it carefully, glancing up at you with a look of indifference that is almost welcome. At the very least, it’s better than the looks of all of these gratewalkers that seem to be able to peg you as a Lower citizen simply by the way you're existing.

The bouncer pockets the invitation and nods once, stepping aside to allow you entry. The lighting in this bar is almost as dark as the night outside. The wood of the booths and the bar is stained a deep burgundy, the velvet of the seats is black, and the women at the tables practically glow.

The woman that sponsored your entry smiles at you across a space crowded by ethereal, white-clad women floating through the room like ghosts, teeth flashing, laughs dampened by the heaviness of the atmosphere. This is the seat of the oldest Charity in Satellite, and it’s the place where women of stature meet to plan, deal, and conquer. For some reason, you've been sponsored. Now, you just have to hope that what they ask of you is something that you can give.

When you get to the booth, a drink already awaits you, as pale and luminescent as the patrons that crowd your table. The bartender leans in, her hair brushing against the skin of your arm.

“Here darling, have a Woman in White. You’re with friends here.”

Given the sharp-toothed grins around you, you aren’t too sure about that.




For more scenes and a book of recipes for drinks like those pictured above, go to our Kickstarter and snag yourself the all encompassing Guide to the Top Ten Bars of Satellite and some awesome drink coasters by buying the Drink Along at Home tier.

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