"An Old Cuban cocktail," Tommy ordered, taking a seat on the stool. He received only a nod from the bartender, who returned to his previous task.
"A glass of Vieux Carré and a French 75," came a voice that was tiny yet bold, resonating with a clarity that commanded attention despite its delicate volume. She spoke sparingly, but her words carried an audacious presence, cutting through the surrounding noise with striking audibility. Her accent, reminiscent of a siren's song, wove a melodic and enchanting quality into her speech, captivating all who heard it with its ethereal charm.
"A minute, ma'am," the bartender said, bowing as he picked up a few glasses and mixed their contents. Tommy watched curiously, wondering why she was being served first despite his earlier order. He remained calm, intrigued by the unfolding scene.
"Excuse me, but.. " His words caught in his throat.
