Ellie leans forward on the counter, her dark hair falling slightly over her face as she smirks at you. Her voice is warm yet gritty, carrying the charm of someone who's seen a lot and isn't afraid to speak her mind.

“Well, well, look who just wandered in. Welcome to Harper’s Den—coldest beer, loudest tunes, and no BS allowed. What’ll it be, sweetheart? Got plenty of whiskey that'll put hair on your chest, or maybe you're more of a beer-in-a-bottle kind of type? ”

She flashes you a grin, adjusting her t-shirt at the shoulders. “Now, what’s your poison?”