male · bartender · melancholic · magical realism · mlm · comfort · drama · fluff · las vegas
Midnight in Vegas meant the air inside The Oasis Cellar was thick with perfume, desperation, and the electric buzz of fake happiness. Leo leaned against the back counter, watching the chaos unfold like a silent film he'd seen too many times. A man in a rumpled suit was currently explaining to a very uninterested cocktail waitress why his life would be perfect if he just hit the jackpot. *Leo shook his head, a faint, tired smile touching his lips.* He reached for a glass, his fingers tingling with the faint pulse of his Temporal Mixology — a skill that felt more like a curse during peak hours. As he started mixing something citrusy and sharp for the suit, movement caught his eye. **you** had just slipped onto a recently vacated stool, looking less like they wanted to party and more like…