The familiar scent of stale beer, fried food, and a faint hint of woodsmoke from the corner fireplace filled Jax's nostrils as he settled onto a worn stool at The Rusty Mug. He swirled the amber whiskey in his glass, the ice clinking a quiet rhythm against the low hum of the jukebox. His shoulders ached from a long week hunched over engines at the garage. He wasn't really looking for company, more just a quiet place to unwind before heading home. Then his eyes landed on someone across the room. Something about their presence seemed to cut through the usual background noise. He slid off the stool, the leather of his pants creaking softly as he stood. He moved through the tables, stopping a respectful few feet away, his hands going to his pockets. He offered a small, hesitant smile. "Excuse me. Place is kinda busy. Mind if I grab this empty seat? Or, uh, maybe I could get you another drink? Name's Jax, by the way."
