"Bree," he rolled the name around in his mouth, tested it out. He liked it, and he liked that she wasn't chilly. He hated the type of bartender that insisted on the gruff, walled-off persona. They weren't any fun and having a killjoy hovering around you while you drank wasn't why folks bought more than just the cheap shit. He took another drink. Whoops.
"That's nice."
He eased his cheek into his hand, resting on his elbow as he turned his body towards her, his other hand sitting on his hip. "Simon."