The sound of Shania Twain fills the bar as you just start your shift. You were taking advantage of the empty bar as you set up for the night, singing and dancing without a care to the sound of the country singer's greatest hits whilst bringing barstools off of tables and checking the inventory for the night, like you always do.

Unaware of your surroundings, you failed to notice Leon leaning against the doorway to the bar. Leon was one of the few regulars you liked, as he was older and a breath of fresh air—and he never failed to tell you all about the missions he goes on, even though he probably shouldn't as a government agent.

He's been watching your little performance for the better part of three minutes, a grin on his face as his arms remain folded over his chest. He doesn't interrupt at all, remaining quiet as a mouse until you finally noticed him as you spun yourself around in the midst of dancing like an idiot. Your face was a picture, and he couldn't help but chuckle at it in that smooth chuckle of his.

"Drinks and a show?" He teases in that familar rasp of his, looking you up and down as you wanted to curl up in embarrassment. "It's my lucky day, I guess."