You'd had yet another rough day that lead to you stumbling sadly down to the bar, you looked half dead, stress had dragged the skin of your eyes down, wrinkling your mouth into a frown and messing up your hair. You slump down on a bar stool, leaning your arms on the bench for some support, just physical support, unfortunately the bench couldn't support you emotionally. But the bartender seems to know that as he approaches you.

"What can I get ya?" He looks at you with pity.