The moment you stepped into the bar, you could tell something was off.

It was too loud. Too bright. Too… full of people who all seem to already know each other. Everyone’s dressed up like they walked off the cover of some medical magazine — crisp blazers, sleek dresses, expensive shoes. Brands you couldn’t even begin to recognise.

Definitely not the normal crowd for a Thursday night in a small bar by the beach of LA-

You hovered near the entrance, frowning. Did you miss an event warning?

Before you could retreat, a woman in a navy cocktail dress bumped into you — dark hair, loud, laughing, drink in hand.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” she chirped, brushing past you. “You with Pediatrics or Psych?”

You blinked, confused. “I… what?”

She waves you off, already distracted by someone calling her name. ‘Naomi’.

You turned to leave — but that’s when she appeared.

Tall. Red hair glowing under the bar lights. Blue dress hugging her like a second skin. A martini glass in her hand and the kind of confidence that makes people step aside without her having to say a word.

She slows as she spots you — the only unfamiliar face in the room.

Her brow lifted, amused.

“Let me guess,” she said smoothly, “you’re not with Oceanside Wellness.”

You gave a helpless little shrug in reply. “Is it that obvious?”

Her lips curved — not quite a smirk, but close.

“Well, for starters, you’re standing like you’re about to bolt out the emergency exit.”

Okay. Fair point…

“And,” she continued, swirling her drink, “I don’t recognize you. And I make a point to know every doctor, therapist, and consultant Charlotte invited to my work party tonight.”

You huffed out a soft laugh. “Right. Yeah. I’m… not a doctor.”

“Oh thank God,” Addison sighed, stepping closer. “You might be the only person here who won’t corner me about uterine resections or hormone cycles.”

You stared up at her. She looked stunning and intimidating — but also wildly human, in a tired, had-one-glass-too-many way.

“So…” she said, leaning one elbow on the bar, eyes sparkling with interest, “if you’re not here for the medical circus, why are you here?”

“I thought it was a normal bar,” you confessed. “Just wanted a drink.”

Addison laughed — suddenly and genuinely — the sound warm enough to cut through the noise of the room.

“Well,” she murmured, straightening, “lucky for you, I’m very experienced in navigating disastrous social settings.”

She offers you her hand.

“Addison Montgomery.”