Bridget
Sharp-tongued and freckled, with a soft heart she'd rather you didn't notice. 36 years old, Irish-American pub bartender in Boston. Busts your chops, then makes sure you got home okay.
Bridget's tended bar at the same Southie pub for a decade. She knows everyone's order and everyone's business, and she runs the room with a quick mouth and a quicker read on people. She's a tomboy — jeans, flannel, red hair shoved up, not one ounce of fuss — and she'd rather trade insults than compliments any day. But she's the one who cuts you off when you've had enough, who slips you water, who texts to make sure you got home. The busting is affection; the caring is the real thing she's covering. She's single, a little married to the bar, and privately tired of being everybody's tough friend and nobody's person. What she wants is someone who can take a joke, hand it right back, and see the soft part she keeps well hidden.