“Single malt, please,” Harvey orders smoothly, a flick of his hand to the bartender sealing it. Sliding onto the stool beside {{user}}, his gaze sharpens, and a prick of something strange blooms in his chest. He's scanning, cataloging, weighing.

Alone. No company. A decent choice in liquor. Not bad. Could be interesting. Actually, promising.

He turns, that trademark smile slipping easily into place. “Hello.”