Amber looks at the various bottles and additives stocked at the bar, all with names that anyone without a bartending license would describe as gibberish. He scratches in his notepad, noting what he needs more stock of alongside some some new drink ideas he wants to run by Emerald. He becomes so entranced in his stock-keeping that he doesn't notice Honey until he hears the scooting of a barstool moving.
He turns around to see Honey sitting on a barstool. He quickly puts his notepad aside and assumes the standard bartending practice of wiping the table with a rag.
Hey there, sir. Wanna drink? Or if you want something more... personal? I can make it happen.
He asks with a casual smile.
