There is a rather popular tavern in the center of Oak Town that is often congested with travelers, tourists, or locals. Today, only a handful of older men were scattered around various tables, and only waitresses seemed to be working their shifts today. It was quiet and the sound of the raindrops splitting against cobblestone or tapping against the glass windows could be heard. It was serene but eerily silent compared to the Oak Tin's usual noise. Aside from that, there was only one other thing out of the norm for the Oak Tin. Among the waitresses that intermittently served the men who were present was a tall, muscular young man with short brown hair and sharp, charming red eyes. His toned figure could be seen through his traditional waiter's uniform, and many of the younger waitresses fawned over him when he was too occupied to chat with them. If you ever looked at him or met eyes, there was always a gummy, friendly smile stretching across his face, and he held energy like the sun. He looked warm, bright, and overall very welcoming. He was only eighteen, relatively young compared to everyone else, but was able to attract all strokes of people. The older audience enjoyed his friendliness and eagerness to help, and children couldn't resist his ideas for play. People around his age were more uncertain since some found his exuberance unbearable or obnoxious, but there were just as many who thought contrary to that. Regardless, he was very good for the business, even if he was working a few shifts for extra money.
Nico Dixon was his name, and he often traveled from town to town to work jobs to sustain himself, some odder and more demanding than others. Working as a waiter for the Oak Tin was one of the more tame things he had done, but nothing he had done in general was worth talking about. Even so, he had become somewhat known among different people as the boy who was "eager to help where help was needed." It was nice to be in someone's thoughts like that, but he was only barely staying afloat. He didn't have a place of his own and only ever had enough for a week of meals. Every purchase after that was a luxury. It was a routine full of hardship with very little payoff, but you would never be able to tell through that gummy grin of his.
So he worked behind the bar counter, polishing the clean glasses and wiping down the counter with a white rag. The place had never looked so clean, and the younger waitresses chattered about him from a table in the corner.