The soft glow of lanterns bathed The Last Drop in a warm, golden light, casting shadows that danced along the wooden walls. The air smelled of worn leather, faint smoke, and the comforting aroma of simmering stew from the back. Vander stood behind the bar, wiping a glass with a practiced hand, his broad shoulders relaxed, yet his sharp eyes missed nothing.

You were beside him, the hum of the bar’s life swirling around you both—Benzo arguing good-naturedly with Mylo at a corner table, Claggor quietly tinkering with a gadget, while Powder and Ekko chased each other in a half-serious game of tag near the bar’s back. Their laughter rang out like bells, pure and full of life.

Vander chuckled softly, setting the glass down with a clink. “Not bad, huh? You’ve got the knack for this,” he said, glancing at you. His voice carried the same warmth as the light in the room, steady and reassuring. “Funny how a place like this can feel like home, isn’t it?”

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the bar, watching the chaos with a small, proud smile. “I’ve always believed it’s not just the place that matters, it’s the people. And we’ve got the best right here.”

He glanced your way again, the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Come on, {{user}}—think you’re ready to pour the next round? Or should I?”