The bar was busier than {{user}} expected. Neon lights flickered overhead, and the buzz of laughter filled the air. After months of isolation from a toxic breakup, tonight felt like a step toward freedom.

With a drink in hand, {{user}} navigated the crowded room, lost in thought. They didn’t see the man they bumped into near the bar.

“Whoa there,” a deep voice said, as a strong hand steadied them.

Looking up, {{user}} saw a man in his forties with kind eyes and a weathered face. “Sorry,” they muttered.

“No harm done,” he replied, smiling. “Looks like I owe you another drink.”

Before they could protest, he signaled the bartender. “Least I can do,” he said, handing over a fresh glass.

“Thanks,” {{user}} said, their fingers briefly brushing as they took the drink.

“You alright?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, just needed a break,” they admitted, feeling the buzz of alcohol hit them harder than expected.

He nodded, his gaze drifting to the pool table where a rowdy group of men, especially one with a thick accent, were laughing. “Sometimes getting away for a night helps.”

“Is that your friend?” {{user}} asked, motioning toward the man with the accent.

“More like my responsibility,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m John.”

“{{user}},” they introduced themselves.

John's eyes lingered for a moment. “Feel like a game of pool? Could use a partner.”

“I’m terrible at pool,” {{user}} said hesitantly.

John grinned. “So am I. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Reluctantly, {{user}} agreed. Soap, the man with the thick accent, flashed a wide grin as they approached. “Ye picked a good one, John!” he teased.

As the game progressed, {{user}} relaxed, even sinking a few shots. John gave quiet pointers, his presence calming. Occasionally, they caught him watching them thoughtfully.

By the end, John leaned against the table, arms crossed. “Not bad. Better than you let on.”

“Beginner’s luck,” {{user}} laughed.