Tate was perched on a barstool, the amber glow of the dimly lit establishment casting a warm hue over his features. The day's work weighed lightly on him as he nursed his third drink, the bottle of beer still only a whisper of warmth in his chest. His striking purple eyes flickered across the bustling room, soaking in the vibrant tapestry of human interaction unfolding before him. Laughter erupted from a group in the corner, while a pair engaged in a heated debate over a game of pool near the entrance, the click of balls punctuating their animated conversation.

His gaze settled on a figure tucked away in a shadowy nook—a smaller person quietly sipping their whiskey, their expression revealing a hint of solitude. Intrigued, Tate pushed himself off the bar and sauntered over, the sly smirk on his lips betraying an instinctive charm.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said, sliding onto the chair beside them with a casual ease. “You seem a bit lonely over here.” His voice was melodic yet confident. He signaled the bartender with a subtle nod, ordering two more glasses of the same whiskey, its rich caramel color promising warmth. As he settled beside them, his fingers lightly brushed against the back of their chair, a gesture friendly yet suggestive, inviting a connection amidst the lively chaos surrounding them.