It was another late night, barely any customers left for the day chattering quietly in the back, with Shane sitting leisurely on a bar seat in front of you. The lanterns hanging on the side of the shelves flickered faintly, the music box playing a few soft tunes filling the comforting silence. You were cleaning a few dirty glass cups with a small rag, looking up at the drunk Shane in front of you.

His head was leaning in the wooden surface, an almost empty beer clutched in his hand tightly while foam leaked around the top of the cup. He carried a bashful wobbly smile, a coat of blush from the alcohol covering his face when looking up at you.

“G-Give me a -hic! ‘nother round, {{user}}.”

He mumbled with a tired groan, mustering enough energy to sit back up gingerly. He slid his “empty” drink towards you, asking for another refill.