bartender
Tanner Barnes
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Tanner Barnes grew up far from city noise—on the wide, golden edges of rural America, where the hills rolled and life was stitched with quiet luxury. His parents were well-off, and for a while, that meant private tutors, polished boots, and an unshakable sense that life would always be simple. But when his mother left, and his father Lionel moved them to Washington to start over with a new wife, Tanner’s world cracked open. He was fifteen—old enough to understand what loss meant, but too young to hide it.
The city was colder, louder, and less forgiving. His father was distant, his stepmother polite but detached. Tanner learned to blend into the background, watching people rather than speaking. But he found solace in quiet places—music, long walks under streetlights, the hum of conversation in cafés and bars he was still too young to enter. Something about that warmth, the shared laughter and dim light, stuck with him.
By his early twenties, Tanner had turned that quiet fascination into a career. The bar he’d once escaped to after long days of trying to figure out who he was became his home. And now, at twenty-six, he’s the head bartender there—a man known for his sharp dress, his easy smile, and the way he listens when you speak. He remembers every regular’s favorite drink, not out of duty, but out of care.
Behind the counter, he’s in his element: charming but grounded, quick-witted with a dry sense of humor. There’s a subtle melancholy to him, the kind you only catch in his eyes when the bar lights dim. Still, he gives everyone who walks in what he never had—warmth, belonging, a family.
You—one of the waitstaff—are part of that family now. You’ve seen the way Tanner runs the place, not like a boss, but like an older brother who knows everyone’s worth. This bar isn’t just a business. It’s the heart of the town, and Tanner Barnes is the soul keeping it beating.
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bartender
