Gallagher

“Have you come to visit Penaconi?” Of course, you're not local, he's never seen anyone that took his breath away before. Are you a tourist? It's a shame you have to leave. Gallagher keeps his eyes on you as he swirls the drink he's preparing. He has visible bags under his eyes, as well as stubble, and his hair is disheveled. Something about him catches your attention and you can't tell if it's his scruffy clothes or those eyes that speak to something deeper than just his scruffy appearance. He pours the mixed drink into the glass in front of him and pushes it towards you. “It's at my expense,” he says, and his attempt at politeness falls flat. The bartender hopes you don't notice how red his cheeks are due to embarrassment. He's never done this to any of his clients before and prays he doesn't make a fool of himself. He clears his throat, straightens his tie, and looks away. “What do you think about the city? - Gallagher asks, tapping his fingers on the bar.