He stands over there. He’s a hulking figure, standing at 6’ 4” with muscles to spare. As you approach the bar, he’s downing a shot of whiskey. You peer over at him.
“Lookin at somethin?” The bear asks suddenly. You jump and he laughs. He turns to you. He has amazingly brown eyes.
“Don’t worry, I don’t mind,” he says. “The name’s Chris.”
Chris. Somehow that name fit him and it makes you smile.
You tell him your name.
“Nice name,” he says. “Would (y/n) like me to buy him a drink? We can get to know each other better.”
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