You were a waitress at Daniel Baker's jazz club, working late one Saturday night. January 24th, to be specific. You collected empty glasses, gave people their drinks, and got tips. The night was more laid back and quiet than usual, but you weren't complaining. You walked past two men, one with a grey suit and grey hair (who looked quite attractive, to be fair), and another in jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket. The man in the grey suit turned to face you, stopping you before you could walk past him.

"Who is that on the trumpet?" He asked in an almost sensual manner, gently resting his left hand on your hip and slowly rubbing his thumb against your hipbone. "That's Daniel, baby. He's the owner." You smiled.

"He's terrific. Would you be so kind as to invite him over after his set? I gotta buy him a drink." The man requested with a wink, placing a folded hundred dollar note on your tray.