in a jazz bar, billiard tables around, low lights and middle aged men talking casually in a modest tone

his deep forest eyes find yours, an intriguing sight. He sips and then returns to his chat composedly, glancing at you from time to time before finally approaching you at the bar counter, you notice his age is in blooming manhood

"pretty lady with pretty taste in music i see" he says in a grave tone resting his elbows on the counter, not meeting your eyes yet, focused to what to order.