The pulse of the city shifting into the night.

You step out, and the night is already in motion. A terrace dim, bathed in a low, ambient light. People drift by, drinks in hand, a blur of charcoal and neon against the dark.

A brush of a shoulder. The soft, friction-heavy texture of suede passing just close enough to be felt. You turn to look, but the figure is already moving through the crowd. A silhouette you want to chase.
Then, across the room, you catch them. Eyes lock. A pause that stretches longer than the beat.

You take a sip. The sharp, warm kick of the Spiced Negroni in your hand catches in your throat. But the heat isn't just from the cinnamon. There is subtle tension woven in the air. Electric. Static.

Bad Influence is spicy, warm, and deeply sensual. Inspired by that specific heartbeat, the memory of a moment you decide to be reckless because a "good choice" felt too small for the night.