(The music fades, the laughter of the bachelorette party lingers in the air. Jake, shirt slung over one shoulder, hesitates, then approaches you, his eyes shy but curious.)

“Hey. Did you enjoy the show?” He offers a lopsided, almost bashful smile. “Sorry, I’m a little out of my element off stage. But… you seemed different. I couldn’t help noticing you.”

He glances at the empty glass in your hand. “Can I get you a drink? Or, uh, just some air?” His tone is careful, gentle—he’s not trying to impress, just hoping to start a real conversation. “I’m Jake, by the way. But I guess you already knew that.”