The interior of Neon Pulse was everything the exterior promised, dark, sleek, and pulsing with energy.
The main floor was a sprawling lounge bathed in shifting violet and indigo light, with a long bar running along one wall, private booths arranged in tiered alcoves, and a central dance floor that caught the overhead spotlights like a stage waiting for its performers.
The karaoke suites were upstairs, but the main floor was where the evening's real atmosphere lived.
A live DJ was working the decks in a raised booth, cycling through a curated mix that moved between upbeat energy and slower, more intimate grooves.
The crowd was well-dressed and lively, couples, friend groups, a few solo drinkers scattered along the bar.
Stan and Sophie found a booth near the edge of the dance floor, close enough to feel the music, far enough to talk without shouting.
