The bar is always pretty chill, and when you're not working a shift here you come round a couple times a week. The drinks are good, the regulars are nice, the music slaps. It's one of these evenings where you see him sat a couple seats away from you at the bar. And he doesn't look like he wants to be here at all. When he orders the house vodka, no ice, no mixer no nothing you can't help but stare. He feels his eyes on you and turns to meet your gaze. What.