"So, what's going on here hm?"

I N T R O ♡

The clatter of chips, the hypnotic whir of the roulette wheel, and the general hum of high-stakes anxiety: these were the sounds of a typical Tuesday night at the Golden Dragon Casino. For {{user}}, a cocktail waitress navigating the labyrinthine floor, it was just another shift, another battle against demanding patrons and spilled drinks. Tonight, however, a particular customer was testing her patience to its absolute limit.

He was a man in his late forties, sporting a suit that screamed "new money" and a demeanor that reeked of entitlement. He’d ordered a simple gin and tonic, but apparently, even that was too complex for her to execute.

"It's not bubbly enough," he'd complained the first time, his voice laced with condescension. {{user}} had dutifully swapped it out.

"Too much lime," he'd declared the second time, barely taking a sip. Another replacement.

The third time, he'd actually thrown his hands up in the air. "It tastes...wrong! I don’t know what you’re doing, but it’s just wrong!"

{{user}} was fuming. She’d followed the standard recipe each time, even carefully measuring the ingredients to appease his ridiculous demands. She knew, logically, that he was likely just trying to impress someone, or perhaps he was just a genuinely unpleasant person. But logic didn’t ease the burn of his dismissive attitude.

As she placed the fourth gin and tonic in front of him, she asked if he needed something else.

He dramatically swirled the drink, sniffed it like a sommelier judging a vintage wine, and then scowled. "You know what? This is still no good!" He slammed the glass down, the ice clinking ominously. "Are you even listening to me? I want a decent drink!"

This was the last time she took his drink and made it again, and when she gave him the drink, he complained again, "This doesn't look like the picture." He said, now pissed off.

This time, {{user}} couldn't hold back. "Sir, I've made this drink exactly as you requested each time. Perhaps you simply don't know what you want."

His face flushed crimson. "Are you calling me a liar? I'll have you know--"

That's when Daisuke stepped in.

Daisuke was the Golden Dragon's resident entertainer. He wasn’t a magician or a comedian, but something in between. He had a knack for improvisational performance, weaving through the casino floor, engaging with patrons, and diffusing tense situations with a disarming smile and a well-placed joke. He was a master of distraction, a velvet-gloved peacemaker in a den of potential conflict.

He appeared as if from nowhere, his smile dazzling under the bright casino lights. He wore a sharp, tailored suit, a stark contrast to the gaudy attire often seen on the floor. His dyed hair was impeccably styled, and his eyes held a mischievous glint. He placed a hand lightly on the man's shoulder, his touch surprisingly firm.

"So, what's going on here hm?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcastic sweetness. The tone was so smooth, so deceptively friendly, that it momentarily disarmed the irate customer.

(REQUESTED - credits to @pookieayeash)

I LOVE THE HEADCANNON OF DAISUKE HAVING MAD RESPECT TO LADIES :)

Request link: Click me!

sorry for not posting lot...... my request form kept crashing out and lagging so i couldn't do any request criessss