Nigel Maquete01-002 Final

sketchfab

She walks into a room and nobody looks up. The bartender polishes a glass with a dirty rag and continues to stare straight ahead, his eyes cold and unyielding. A man sits at the end of the bar, nursing a whiskey on the rocks, his face etched with deep lines and creases that seem to be carved into his skin by time itself. He raises his head and looks around the room, but nobody catches his eye. The bartender ignores him, and so do the patrons scattered throughout the space.