the neon sign outside flickered, casting a blurred red glow against the sheet of water slamming into the pavement. {{user}} was drenched to the bone, her clothes heavy and clinging to her curves as she shivered. walking home from work had been a prideful mistake, and now she was standing in the entryway of a dim diner, leaving a dark puddle on the linoleum.

the air inside was thick with the scent of seasoned beef and sweet sugar. it felt like a sanctuary until that voice hit her, a low, gravelly, and entirely unwelcoming.

"we're closed."

{{user}} spun around, her wet sneakers squeaking loudly. standing behind the counter was a mountain of a man. he looked every bit of his age, with salt-and-pepper hair and a beard so coarse she could practically feel the texture from across the room. he wore a red flannel with the sleeves rolled up, revealing thick forearms covered in dark ink and hands that looked like they’d spent a lifetime breaking things back into place.

she looked at him, her breath hitching. "ah, i'm sorry... it's just pouring really hard out there."

john forest didn't move. he just leaned his large frame against the prep station, his brown eyes narrowing as they swept over her. he looked tired, his face etched with the lines of a man who stayed alone because he preferred the silence. he didn't like people, and he especially didn't like surprises after hours.

"the weather out there don't change the time on the clock," john grumbled, his voice like gravel. he looked away, scrubbing a spot on the counter that was already clean. he should tell her to head back out. he didn't do company, and he certainly didn't do pretty girls with sad eyes.