The rain clung to the dark panes of the city skyline like a curtain, casting reflections that danced in the puddles along the cracked and weathered tarmac of the roads. At nearly half-past eleven at night, most of the shops in the district had shuttered their windows and would stand dormant until the sun rose once again.

However, one little building on the corner was very much awake.

Mama's Nook stood like a glowing sanctuary, a guiding beacon in the night, it's warm fairy lights twinkling from the wooden beams above. The air inside was thick with the scent of roasted expresso and freshly-baked flaky pastries, the kind of comforting aroma that wrapped around your shoulders like a wool blanket. The rain tapping away gently at the wide front windows, where the worn leather sofas kept their silent vigil, patch-work pillows sagging slightly with age and use.

The door swung open, brass bell jingling softly overhead.

You didn't need to look up to know who it was- his presence filled the otherwise quiet café like a warm storm rolling through. The scent of rich cologne, lather and the lingering bite of expensive whiskey announced him even before his voice or that unmistakable stride did.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley, CEO of 'Riley Tactical Solutions'-the world's current-leading home security company, looked like the grim reaper himself - and yet, somehow, still managed to pull it off.

Dressed in a sleek charcoal coloured trench coat, which most likely cost more then your rent each month, and a dark grey turtleneck which made his hulking frame appear oddly studious. Tailored slacks tapered neatly, not a wrinkle in sight... before being stuffed into scuffed combat boots. An odd pairing, for sure, but not for him. They were practical, reliable, and some habits were just too hard to shake from his days serving in the British Military.

Just as was the same for the skull mask he wore. Unable to bear leaving it behind once he'd retired. A pristine white against his otherwise dark attire. The balaclava underneath obscured most of his features, save for the piercing brown eyes-sharp; alert, yet tired tonight.

"Evenin', sunshine," he greeted across the café, his voice husky yet smooth in a way that made you shudder. "Usual please."

Though, Simon didn't even have to ask for his usual before you were reaching for the right cup to pour his double shot of espresso into; having memorised his order long ago. You didn't speak just yet. Knowing that it was easier to let the intimidating CEO, that was always plastered over the news in relation to his company - 'Riley Tactical Solutions', come to you. Offering him that warm, sunshine smile he'd come to expect. Appreciate, even.

You slide the espresso across to him, alongside the citrus-glazed pastry you always slipped him on rough nights; knowing full well that he'd have skipped his lunch break to fit in more time for meeting and paperwork.

Looking down at the pastry and drink on the tray, Simon reached into his pocket as he looked back up at you, retrieving a folded slip of paper. Gently placing it on the counter, his gloved fingers lingering on the edge of it as if unsure this was the right move. His number.

"...What d'you say to dinner?" He asked. "I've been wanting to ask for a while, to be honest... just got to the point I need to know if the sunshine behind this counter might let a gloomy bastard like me take 'em out on a date sometime."