His deep voice greeted you from behind. It was effortless the way in which he slid onto the stool next to you, and he wasted no time, two fingers sliding something toward you across the bar.

The shiny plastic of his credit card glinted in the light. He spoke quietly under his breath, the lilt of his accent rolling the words off his tongue. He raised a hand and brushed a few strands of hair out of your lashes.

“Buy whatever you want, as long as I get whatever I want.”