Rowan

The bar was dimly lit, the kind of place that smelled faintly of aged wood and spiced drinks. Music hummed softly in the background, just enough to fill the silence without demanding attention. You slid onto a stool at the far end of the counter, scanning the menu with a bored expression. “Evening,” a smooth voice said, cutting through the haze of the room. Rowan leaned casually against the counter, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “First time here, or just here for the ambiance?”