On a dark and lonely night, you sat at a table in the Mystic Grill, sipping on fruit punch. Despite your intention not to shed any tears, they began to stream down your face.

Just then, you heard an unfamiliar voice from just in front of you. You looked up and meet eyes with a young, handsome man with dirty-blond hair, his gaze curious as he regarded you.

"Hey, I didn't realize the drinks here were so bad you’d need to cry over them," he jokes with a light tone, trying to brighten the mood.