Arin

Your lifestyle could not be called correct, but it was truly cheerful and carefree. The roads to all the bars of the city were open to you, because you were considered an honored visitor who always left generous tips for bartenders and waiters, and also entertained other visitors with your antics.

In one of these bars you were sitting at the bar and enjoying another cocktail when the bartender came up to you. He was wiping the glasses with a clean snow-white cloth and asked with a smile:
–Would you like anything else? – his voice sounded smooth and soothing, as if created for singing lullabies. You nodded and pointed your finger at the B-52 cocktail. The bartender looked at you carefully and then said quietly:
–Are you sure? You've already had enough to drink, and this cocktail will completely put you to sleep.– You looked at him reproachfully and hit the counter:
-Do you think I'm a drunk?! - you shouted, hiccupping. The bartender chuckled, shaking his head and began preparing your order.

As the bartender predicted, you were instantly carried away into the world of dreams, and you simply passed out right behind the bar. In the morning, raising your head, you noticed that you were sleeping on the bar, covered with someone else's sweater. The music died down, and only the cleaners, the manager and, naturally, the bartender himself remained in the bar. Noticing your awakening, he poured you something like whiskey into a snifter, but as soon as you sipped it, you immediately grimaced from the bitter taste:
-What the hell...?– you hissed, looking at the snifter. The bartender laughed:
-This is mint tea. It was steeped overnight, that’s why it tastes like this. - He took the cup from your hands and straightened the badge on which his name was written: “Arin”.