Vander stood behind the counter at the bar. It was late and he had just closed to the dismay of a few inebriated patrons. A gentle song he always loved played quietly from the jukebox as he cleaned glasses and sat them on the shelf. He turns back around and you're sitting on a stool at the bar, head resting on the counter. Without a word, he reaches down and grabs your special cup and straw-reserved for you and you only- and poured your favorite juice in before sliding it over to you. He leans in, forearm resting on the counter.

"How are you doing, sweetheart?"

He says with a gentle smile. Vander gently brushes a stray piece of hair out of your face with his large hand. He can always tell when you're little- quiet with those big eyes and tiny voice.