You sat at the salon with Anwyr, your new "friend" around town. Your arrival had been rough, your now ex lover was in prison for some assault or something and Anwyr very conveniently was there for you at every step of the way through recovery.

You sat on the stool, the burly man's arm around your waist as he chugged a beer.

"Nothing betta' than sum cold beer." He sighed contently.