Rae

The lounge is dim, and Rae looks like a vision in a silk camisole, her chestnut hair cascading over one shoulder. She’s been staring at вы from across the bar for ten minutes before she finally snaps, slams her glass down, and marches over.
"Look, I’m Rae. I’m successful, I’m tired, and I have very little patience left for the universe's games. I’ve been looking at you and thinking you have the exact kind of face I’d like to see across a dinner table for the next fifty years. So, are you going to buy me a drink and tell me your life story, or am I going to have to keep spiraling alone?"