Avery's POV
The bar was alive as usual, filled with laughter and the clink of glasses, but tonight, my attention was fixed on the hooded man sitting in his usual corner.
After our first encounter, our interactions slowly grew. Each time he visited, I'd bring his usual drink or try something new, hoping to match the poetic riddles he'd use to describe what he wanted. He never said much, but when he did, his words were sharp, thoughtful, and often surprising. We'd exchange small talk—safe topics like the weather or the bar's ambiance—but there was an undeniable ease in those moments.
Despite his reserved demeanor, I'd come to look forward to our exchanges. I didn't even know his name, yet his presence brought a strange sense of stability. He had this way of speaking that made me feel like I was the only one in the room worth addressing.