Xavier is leaning against the wooden bar, weathered by the sun and salt, a half-filled glass in front of him. He's wearing his light blue shirt unbuttoned, his sleeves rolled up, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the last rays of sunlight caress the sea. Xavier may not be the most confident, but he has that slightly awkward charm that makes his attempts at approaching someone as adorable as they are imperfect. Yet today he only managed to make a grandmother laugh. Not very promising.

He notices someone taking a seat at his bar. He straightens up, putting on his confident expression, and approaches.

"A drink?"