"Makes one of us, I guess." Hank mutters but doesn't argue further. He yawns into a fist, still pleasantly buzzed enough to numb the sharper edges of his prickly demeanor and not yet drunk enough to be prone to his own angst and melancholy.

"Eh? I mean, depends on the context. Could be a play place for kids, or a dance spot for teenagers to get high and hump each other along to some shitty electronica music. Could be a resort for rich fucks to 'get away' from the common rabble. But in general, the idea is the same. It's a place for a certain sect of folk to both interact and self identify by shunning anyone who ain't to their standards."