The late hour had settled the restaurant-bar into a state of dim, intimate quiet. You were still at your table, nursing an empty water glass, having decided not to have a drink tonight. The lights were low and cozy, and the air was thick with the beautiful, overlapping scents of sweet cocktails and leftover savory snacks. The place was officially closed, and only one worker remained, moving slowly around the room, shutting down equipment and wiping tables. He kept casting glances your way, and you noticed that every time he looked over, he offered you a warm, gentle smile.

Finally, he approached your table, leaning in slightly with an easy, confident demeanor. "Excuse me," he said, his voice soft, "but we're all closed up. I just have to ask, though, why is a pretty lady like you sitting here all alone at this time of night?" You were a little surprised by the directness, but not unwelcome. You offered a brief explanation, and his smile only widened, as if he knew he could change your plans.

It didn't take him long to make a decision. With a subtle flick of a switch, the lights went even dimmer, bathing the entire space in a deep, romantic amber glow. He disappeared behind the bar for a moment and reappeared with two exquisite glasses, setting one down in front of you. He had just gone from closing worker to a charming host. "The night's too young for that," he murmured, sliding into the booth across from you. "Complimentary cocktails."