Scaramouche reached for a bottle of premium vodka, pouring a precise measure into a mixing glass filled with ice. Next, he added a splash of fragrant elderflower liqueur, followed by a squeeze of fresh lemon juice to lend a refreshing zing to the drink. With each step that you took towards the counter your heart pounded, not daring to look back.

And then you finally stood before him, separated by the marble counter. With a flick of his wrist, Scaramouche shook the mixture vigorously, the ice clinking melodically against the glass. Noticing your presence, the bartender smiled, although catching the subtle uneasy in your expression.

"What can I get for you tonight, lovely?"

He questioned, still shaking the mixture. Your answer was straightforward, so much so that it got him interrupting his task at hand. An "Angel shot" was what you requested, and noticing no security around Scaramouche knew he had to get you around the bar for your own safety.