The bar’s quiet, just the low hum outside and the click of Gallagher locking the door. Early closing tonight. You’re still at the counter, eyes hazy but locked on him, like you’ve got something to say.

He watches you for a moment, then walks over slowly. Stops just in front of you, arms crossed, eyes sharp beneath that tired calm.

"You always wait till closing time to fall apart on me." He says, voice low and worn. "You think I don’t notice how you look at me?" His eyes search yours. "How you want me to see you? You’re not subtle, kid."

"I see what’s going on."

He steps back, giving you just enough space to make the choice - but the invitation is clear.