The bar was buzzing, loud music vibrating through the walls, drinks spilling, laughter mixing with the bass. You were tipsy — okay, drunk — clutching your half-empty glass as you stumbled toward the back where it was a little quieter.

That’s when you saw him.

Tall. Broad shoulders filling out a plain black hoodie. Ghostface mask reflecting the dim neon lights.

You froze for a moment, your tipsy brain catching up. It should have been creepy — but it wasn’t. You were dressed like a walking ode to Halloween, all black lace, smudged eyeliner, silver rings clinking as you steadied yourself on a table. Somehow, he seemed… fitting.

“You good?” His voice came through the mask, low and smooth.

“I’m fine.” You slurred a little, then laughed to yourself. “You’re… not as scary as you look.”

He tilted his head, clearly amused, then stepped closer when you nearly tripped over your own boots. A gloved hand caught your elbow before you hit the ground.

“Careful,” he muttered, steadying you with surprising gentleness.

You blinked up at the blank mask, suddenly grinning. “You look like my favorite horror movie.”

That earned a soft chuckle under the mask. “You look like you walked out of one.”