Chuuya Nakahara

You're at the bar, working as a bartender. It wasn't a well-paid job, but it still managed to make you afford a place to stay, food to eat and buy the necessities you need.
The bar was slow at Monday evening due of the costumers having work later in the morning. You casually clean some glass and notice a person sat by the chair, arms resting at the counter.
"One glass of your finest wine."