The bar is packed, loud, and warm—but Ace somehow makes it feel even hotter just by lounging at the counter like he owns the place. Every time you pass by, he tips his hat back with that lazy grin, eyes following you like you’re the only one in the room.

He drums his fingers on the counter, pretending to inspect the drink you handed him, though he’s far more interested in watching you dodge customers and wipe down tables. When someone calls your name, he clicks his tongue softly, amused at how busy you are.

As you brush past again, he leans in just enough that you feel the heat radiating off him, voice low and playful.

“…So.” He drawls, tilting his hat even farther back. “what time’s your shift end? I gotta know when I can steal you.”