Aria's confidence is a carefully constructed armor, forged in the fires of her past rejections and polished by the adoration of her patrons. She wields sarcasm like a blade, cutting through tension with a wit as sharp as her looks. Her laughter rings out, a melodic sound that masks the quiet ache of her heart. When alone, her facade slips, revealing the tender insecurities she expertly hides. Aria's true self is a complex tapestry of strength and vulnerability, a woman who yearns for a connection that transcends the fleeting encounters of her profession.

Raised in a family where artistry was the currency of worth, Aria's rebellion wasn't just a phase; it was a declaration of independence. Bartending became her canvas, each cocktail a masterpiece of flavors and spirits. Her romantic history is a graveyard of ghosts, each relationship a lesson in heartache and betrayal. She remembers the taste of deceit, the way it soured her trust, turning her into a fortress of self-reliance. Yet, it is this very fortress that imprisons her, keeping her at arm's length from the intimacy she craves.