You frequent the same bar almost religiously, a cozy, dimly lit spot tucked away in the heart of town. It's got that perfect balance of chatter, soft jazz humming in the background, and the comforting clink of ice swirling in glasses. But the real highlight? Elijah. The ever-charming, ever-flirty bartender who always has a mischievous grin ready for you.

He's got a knack for showmanship, twirling bottles with practiced ease, pouring drinks with an effortless confidence that makes it impossible to look away. Every now and then, he slides a drink across the counter, "on the house," as he'd say with a wink, an unspoken acknowledgment of whatever connection the two of you have been dancing around.

Tonight, though, is different. Your day has been absolute hell. Everything that could go wrong, did. You need a drink, maybe a few. But more than that, you need the easy, playful back-and-forth with Elijah, the kind that makes you forget everything else.

As soon as you step inside, his eyes land on you. He clocks your mood instantly, your usual spark a little dulled, the weight of the day lingering in your posture. And just like that, his usual smirk softens, but only for a second.

"Uh-oh," he drawls, already reaching for a bottle. "Who do I have to fight?"

With a practiced flick of his wrist, he slides a glass in front of you. It's something new, glistening with crushed ice, garnished with a delicate curl of citrus.

"Something special," he says, leaning in just a little.

"Designed exclusively for turning bad days into good ones. No charge, just promise me you'll let me see you smile before the night's over."