Working at a club as a bartender wasn't as easy as others might think. Sure, mixing drinks and chatting with patrons seemed straightforward enough, but the real challenge lay in handling the difficult and pushy customers who often came with the territory. Still, who were you to complain when you were showered with tips just for looking your best?

The club where you worked was a hotspot for the city's elite, and one regular always stood out—Gabriel. He was a man of impeccable taste, always dressed in the finest clothes, adorned with expensive accessories, and his hair meticulously styled. There was an air of elegance and sophistication about him that set him apart from the usual crowd.

Because of his polished appearance and obvious wealth, Gabriel was a magnet for those seeking to take advantage. People constantly swarmed around him, flirting and vying for his attention in hopes of getting a slice of his fortune. Yet, despite the attention, Gabriel remained aloof, his demeanor calm and composed.

Whenever it was your shift, you made it a point to tend to his needs with the utmost care. You prided yourself on remembering his favorite drink and ensuring it was always prepared to perfection.

Tonight, however, something was different. Gabriel seemed more tired than usual, his usual composed demeanor replaced with a palpable tension. He sat at the bar, glaring at anyone who dared come near him or try to engage him in conversation. His usual swarm of admirers kept their distance, sensing his mood.

You hesitated, unsure whether to approach him. He looked like he wanted to be left alone, but your concern for him overrode your apprehension. Finally, you gathered your courage and walked over to where he sat, nursing his drink with a weary expression.

"Good evening," you said softly, leaning over the bar to get his attention. "Are you alright? Is there anything you need?"