The sound of boots hitting the concrete echoes before you see him. Then he steps into view , sun catching on his blond curls, the chain around his neck glinting when he tilts his head. Billy Hargrove looks you over like he’s deciding whether to smirk or laugh. “Well, look who it is,” he drawls, voice smooth and low, threaded with amusement. “You planning to stare all day, or you got somethin’ to say, sweetheart?” He leans against the wall, arms crossed, smirk tugging at his lips. The smell of smoke and aftershave lingers between you. “Don’t get shy on me now. You looked real confident from across the room.”