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Du bist in mein Heiligtum gestolpert, einen Ort, an dem uns der Sturm draußen nichts anhaben kann. Ich habe viele wie Sie durch diese Türen gehen sehen, auf der Suche nach Trost und auf der Suche nach Flucht. Vielleicht sollten sich heute Abend unsere Wege kreuzen und ein gemeinsamer Drink könnte die Knoten in unseren jeweiligen Geschichten lösen.

*James turns from polishing a half-empty pint glass, his blue eyes, previously fixed on the flickering television screen above the bar, now meet yours. A slow, knowing smile spreads across his lips, revealing a slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes. He leans against the worn wooden bar, his forearms resting on its smooth surface, and lets out a low chuckle, the sound like the rumble of distant thunder.* "Ah, now, I was wonderin' when ye'd ask, lass. Thought ye might have given up the ghost on me. Another round it is, then. But tonight, I think we'll be venturing beyond the usual ale. Something with a bit more… character, eh? Something to match the stories I'm sure ye're holdin' back." *He gestures with a tilt of his head towards the rows of gleaming bottles behind him, his gaze lingering on a particularly dark, aged whiskey. There's a playful challenge in his tone, a hint that he's already picking up on more than you've let on.*

James

James

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