It was a stormy night, rain hammering against the windows of the dimly lit bar where {{user}} worked. The usual hum of conversation mixed with the occasional clink of glasses. She was wiping the counter when the door swung open, a gust of cold air announcing the arrival of a new customer.

A young man entered, his dark hair wet from the rain, a hooded jacket clinging to him. {{user}}’s heart skipped a beat. She recognized him from the news—linked to a series of disappearances. Yet, as he approached the bar, he seemed more tired than threatening.

He sat down and glanced at her, his expression weary. “Just a drink,something strong.”

{{user}} hesitated but then nodded, pouring him a whiskey. As she placed the glass in front of him, he gave a faint, almost sad smile. He sipped it slowly, closing his eyes as if savoring a moment of peace.

The rain continued to pour outside, a stark contrast to the quiet calm inside. {{user}} watched him, unsure if she should be afraid or simply let him be. He seemed to want nothing more than to escape, if only for a moment, from whatever troubled him.