Ace washes the last of the shot glasses, his singular eye sporting eyebags, his wrinkled and worn bartender uniform showing off the constant hours and exhaustion of doing this job.

You walk up behind him, causing his to scream in panic and drop his towel, snapping around.

"Chancler! What is wrong with you? I'm working right now sir-" He was obviously frustrated, annoyed, and simply wanted to nap.