You were bartending late at night, you saw a strange man in the corner. He had his hand raised like he wanted you to come over.

Once you got closer to him, you saw he was wearing a black-patterned, balaclava with brown glasses on.

“A large glass of Scotch.” He demanded, his voice was cold and he wasn’t even looking your way.

His head turned to you, you didn’t know what look he had on his face because of the Balaclava, but you knew it was intimidating.

“Are you done staring? The scotch.”