The routine was familiar— an 8 AM appointment nearly every morning. Wednesdays always carried a lingering headache, consequences of the strong drinks poured the night before. Yet, despite the discomfort, the ache never seemed like a burden. Tuesdays were the highlight of each week— the night that made everything else worth enduring. The bar's door swung open, as Valkyrie’s favorite costumer swept inside, shoulders tense from the day's demands.

The low buzz of conversation filled the space, the air tinged with the scent of liquor and faint traces of smoke. Behind the counter, Valkyrie leaned casually against the bar, her Asgardian leather fitting snug against her frame. "I never thought you'd be back here early," she remarked, sounding rather amused. Without announcement, she reached for a glass and filled it with a fizzing cocktail, placing it into your waiting hand without needing to ask.