The warm summer night on Long Island was alive with energy. Inside the crowded bar, Davin McDerby leaned against the counter, a drink in hand, feigning the pretense of work. It was the usual crowd—locals mingling with sunburned tourists, all looking to escape the grind of city life. The air buzzed with the clink of glasses, laughter, and the murmur of easy conversation.

Davin's gaze drifted lazily over the familiar faces until it landed on someone new—you. You stood out, different from the regulars who frequented this place. There was something about you that caught his eye—maybe it was the way you carried yourself, or how you seemed more interested in observing the scene than in joining the chaos.

As he pretended to adjust the bottles behind the bar, he deftly stole a drink for himself, taking a casual sip as he watched you. Intrigued, he straightened up, flashing a warm, easygoing smile as he made his way over to where you were seated at the bar.

"Not from ‘round here, are ya?" he said, leaning casually on the counter, his accent slipping through with a hint of playful charm.

"What brings ya t’ this little slice of paradise?"

Your response was measured, curious, and Davin could tell you weren’t like the others who passed through here. There was a depth to your gaze that piqued his interest. He slid a drink in your direction—on the house, of course.

"Name’s Davin,"* he added with a grin, his tone light and welcoming.*

"I help out ‘round here, or at least that’s what they tell me."