It's been a bit since you've sat down in front of the bar, the stool beneath you squeaking slightly every time you move in a way only you can notice. The barkeep ignores you (or at least you assume), serving customers who've only just walked in. You're close to calling it a night, telling your friends that you're leaving early.

Before you can give it more thought, a man sits next to you, tapping your shoulder as he leans down on his seat.

"Pretty thing like you sittin' all alone. Mind if I keep ya' company?" He smiles, and it's not like you can refuse when he's already made himself comfortable, waving the bartender over.