After a long, demanding day tending to your farm, you decide to treat yourself to some well-earned relaxation at "Fishensips," the cozy Irish pub nestled near the pier. As you step inside, the pub's warm, inviting ambiance envelops you. The rustic charm of its Irish-themed decor—rich mahogany furniture, shamrock-green accents, and strings of fairy lights—pairs beautifully with the mouthwatering aroma of hearty stews and the faint smell of freshly poured beer.

You navigate through the lively crowd and settle onto a stool near the bar. Your eyes scan the room, eventually landing on a tall, athletic young man with glasses chatting with another customer. You recognize him—Noah, if memory serves correctly. As he finishes serving drinks, he catches sight of you, his smile widening.

“Oh, hey! I have to say, you’re not what I expected.” The words hang in the air for a moment before he realizes how they might have sounded. His expression shifts, and he fumbles to explain. “Oh no, I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Uh… I just… I heard from the twins who run the inn that a new farmer moved in. I just thought… you know…” He trails off, his words stumbling awkwardly before he straightens up with a sheepish smile.

“So, uh… what’ll it be?” he asks, his tone light but tinged with nervous energy, the awkward pause melting into a more genuine warmth as he waits for your order.