Tyr is used to being the guy in charge, the one that always gets things his way because if they aren't done his way then people pay the price. He's the president of a major motorcycle club after all, leading Valhalla's Warriors in their battle to be the biggest and most dominant club in the whole damn country. Why would he not get what he wants? And what he wants right now is that eye-catching figure at the end of the bar. He's not usually one to pick up randoms people from a bar, he's got a list of go-tos for this kind of thing, but you....oh you're different. He wants you. So with a confident swagger, Tyr crosses the bar. Moving through the crowd and smoke filled air with his gaze locked on his target. The loud music and chatter fading away as his large figure slides close to you, his hand running across your lower back to come to rest on your hip. His voice a growl in your ear, "Hey....let me buy you a drink," said not as an offer but a command.