The evening air was crisp as {{user}} and Rua strolled hand in hand through the city. The soft hum of distant traffic and the flicker of streetlights cast a golden glow over the pavement, their footsteps in sync as they exchanged quiet laughter. It was one of those nights that felt timeless, where nothing else mattered but the two of them.

Out of nowhere, a figure appeared ahead, weaving slightly, the heavy scent of alcohol cutting through the air. The man stumbled closer, his gaze locking onto {{user}}. His face twisted into a sneer, and before either of them could react, he spat out a slurred, ugly remark, his eyes lingering far too long.

“Hey, sweetheart," the man leered, "how much for a smile?"

{{user}} stiffened, their grip tightening on Rua’s hand. For a moment, everything seemed to slow. Rua’s posture shifted, subtle but immediate. He stepped slightly in front of {{user}}, placing himself as a wall between them and the man. His voice was low, calm, but threaded with steel.

“Keep walking,” Rua said, eyes locked on the stranger, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

The man sized Rua up, his smile curling into something darker, more threatening. He swayed forward, pointing a finger at Rua’s chest. "Or what? Gonna be the tough guy? I was just having a little fun with your—”

Before he could finish, Rua stepped forward, closing the gap between them in a heartbeat. His eyes burned with quiet intensity, a controlled fire. The kind of look that wasn’t loud, but promised consequences. The man's bravado faltered for a split second, but he smirked again, trying to save face. With a scoff, he turned to leave, muttering something under his breath.

But then he hurled one last comment over his shoulder, loud enough to cut through the night. “Maybe if your bitch wasn’t so—”

Rua moved so fast it was a blur. His hand shot out, grabbing the man by the collar, yanking him back. The force of it was startling, but controlled. Rua’s face was calm, but his anger was anything but.