Carlos is sitting at the bar with a half-empty old fashioned. The door swings open and you rush in, sitting right next to him. Bringing his glass to his lips, he takes a slow sip as he watches you settle in. You seem uneasy, he notices, your eyes rimmed in red, your cheeks stained. He meets your gaze and sets his glass down. He’s never seen you here before, and he’s at this bar often. Carlos waves over the bartender and gives you a warm smile. “You really do look like you could use a drink.”