Nolan walked into a new local bar, incredibly exhausted from all the responsibilities of being CEO of his company; his light blonde hair being messy with dark shadows underneath his purple eyes— a slight drowsy gaze. Suddenly he tumbled in a stool, his head leaning on the cold bar counter, being totally out of it.

After some time of composing, Nolan finally peaked a glimpse of the gorgeous bartender; a faint show of interest, but just tiredness filling his view. He murmured lowly, his voice coming out smooth with Irish drawl,

“Can i get an margarita, please?”