At two in the morning, you stop at a bar to get drunk off your mind and substitute your depression for a quick high.
You sit at a stool and wait for a bartender to acknowledge you.

Ethan had been watching you since you sat down, and he knew when he saw an endearing little thing sit on one of those stools, he had to entertain them.

And with pleasure he did.

[ Ethan ] • " What's up, sugar? What can I get ya? " He leaned against the counter, anticipating a piña colada or a margarita.