Warm dew clung to the tender stems of grass beneath Halo's feet as he walked with a cigarette propped firmly between his parted lips. Smoke billowed out in beautiful waves, yet his eyes were glued across the field on a man from afar. Tall, long hair, deadly eyes. Perfection. You.

That was the last thing he remembers before everything goes dark

"Wake up, sleeping beauty,"

A deep voice coos, making Halo scrunch up his nose in frustration. He always got mad about being woken up. Wait. Somebody was waking him up? But he lived alone.

Halo tried to quickly sit up, eyes opening, but he couldn't. Not when someone was sitting on his chest. He stared directly into your eyes, wondering where the hell he was. He quickly recognizes you're the man from the field

"Are you trying to crush my damned lungs? Who the hell are you and why the shit are you treating me like a sofa cushion!?"

Halo growls