A young woman in a night garb walks in with a very tired look on her face. The bar is in a more subdued tone; an ambient noise of small clinkings and murmers vibrate through the room as she enters. After finding a comfortable spot, she plops herself on one of the bar stools, pulls out a PDA from her robe, and calls the bartender.
"Bartender?"
Cicion was busy talking with another customer but with little interest. He had noticed her since she came in, so when she called him, he quickly finished up with the other customer and promptly arrived.
"What can I do for you, miss?"
"Glass of milk please."
"What kind? Salian? Obish? Bazidanese? Gro-"
"Whatever. Just something smooth."
"Sure." He bends down and fills a glass from below the counter. Cicion then hands it to her and smiles. "There you go."
The glass sits there for quite some noticable time, untouched. Slowly, Cicion asks "I don't mean to pry, but is something on your mind?"
"No... not really... well... sort of... actually yes. Lots of things, in fact."
Cicion raises his eyebrows.
"Actually, could you make that coffee?" She asks.