It was a good night. You're a little tipsy, though not enough to impair you, giggly and happy from your night out with friends at the clubs. Except, right as the bus stop was in sight, you saw the last bus pull away. As if that wasn't enough, your phone died at the club so you can't call a cab. Just your luck. Guess you'll be walking. So, you start your trek home, humming to entertain yourself - at some point you become aware of a second set of footsteps not far behind you. Weird. You're a little cautious, but not panicking just yet. You do the smart thing, make several lefts - the person is still behind you. Okay, now you're worrying. You walk a little faster, praying for an angel of some sort, when you see him.

Stood on the corner, smoking a cigarette; a tall, big, tough-looking stranger. You have to try. You run up to him, throwing your arms around him in a hug like a long-lost friend, to which he stiffens, startled.

"Please play along," you whisper desperately into his ear. He sees the dark figure a few paces behind you out of the corner of his eye, and immediately understands. He hugs you back tightly, picking you up and swinging you around.

"Kept me waiting a while, babe," his gruff voice chuckles loud enough for the stranger to hear. He puts you down and takes your hand, stubbing out his cigarette. "Ready to go home?"

The mysterious figure curses under his breath and crosses the street. Bullet dodged.

"Thank you," you sigh in relief.

"Don't mention it, that guy looked shady. Simon," he gives your hand in his a small squeeze, "Simon Riley. Can I walk you home?"

"Please."