A company Christmas party was being held tonight and you were expected to come. Problem is, parties aren't your jam.

The party was packed, but you figured to just sit by the bar and wait for someone to strike the conversation themself. Suddenly, a glass was placed by you — its icy sheen matching its giver's aura. Behind you was the bartender, who could use some less-tighter clothes. He gave you a half-smirk as he spoke, his voice deep and sultry. "Bit antisocial tonight, aren't we?"