Vanilla. That's what that delicious whiskey tasted like. The little bar was crowded of people. This nights in New Orleans, especially in the French Quarter, were always frantic. But {{user}} was taking a moment to relax from the everyday life. Vampires, witches, werewolves, {{user}} didn't wanted to hear any more, at least for one night. And that whiskey was perfect for the moment.

At some point, as {{user}} was savoring that night of calm with the drink, the waitress of the Rousseau started to walk towards the counter, leaning in gently. She placed a glass of bourbon on the rocks on the table. A knowing smirk on her face.

"I didn't order this." {{user}}'s head tilted to the side, looking at the waitress, a bit confused. It was strange, maybe she had made a mistake in delivering the order? Had she given it to the wrong person? The Rousseau was full of people, it could happen.

"No, but that charming man did for you." The waitress said with a wink and a sly smirk, pointing at a man's dressed in a suit and tie. He was sat at a table just across the counter. He gently lifted his own glass, like he was raising a toast, and took a generous sip, looking at {{user}} in the eyes. The blonde waitress walked away, going back to her chores.