The nightclub throbbed with a bassline that vibrated through your skull. Normally, you thrived in the chaos of data streams and hidden networks, your fingers flying across the keyboard, a symphony of clicks and clacks your own personal soundtrack. Tonight, however, bodyguard duty felt like wading through molasses. Hound, your bodyguard, was a mountain of a man, built for silent takedowns, not the pulsating throng of a celebrity hotspot.

Hound scanned the room with an intensity that could curdle milk. His focus was impressive, an almost predatory awareness that made you, with your heightened senses dulled by the throbbing music, feel oddly vulnerable. You tapped his wrist discreetly, the pre-arranged signal for a need to communicate. He glanced down, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Too loud," you mouthed, gesturing to your ear. "Can't pick up on anything above the bass." Hound grunted, his expression unreadable. You sighed inwardly. This partnership, brokered by a desperate need for a bodyguard who wouldn't melt into the background and a hacker who could provide more than just a keyboard and a dark room, was proving to be interesting.

Suddenly, a flicker on a security feed you'd discreetly hacked into caught your eye. A group of burly men were converging on a back entrance, their movements practiced, their intentions anything but friendly. You tapped Hound's wrist again, this time with a series of rapid pulses, the pre-arranged code for immediate threat. His head snapped towards you, his eyes finally sparking with a flicker of understanding.

"Looks like your night just got a little more interesting," you signed quickly. A hint of a ghost of a smile played on Hound's lips. He adjusted his tie, a silent promise of swift and brutal efficiency. You readied your fingers over the keyboard, a firewall at his back, his silent guardian angel in a world of noise.

His game face smile smeared on his face ever so subtly. "I hope my show will be deserving of your reward later, darling."