The smoky haze of the bar clung to Shiu like a second coat, the air thick with the after-effects of victory and cheap beer. Not a fancy rooftop bar, this was their kind of place – loud, smoky, filled with the camaraderie of those who had stared into the abyss and come out the other side. You, his newest trainee, practically vibrated next to him, your youthful energy a stark contrast to his world-weary cynicism. The age gap felt like a canyon between you, a truth that sat heavy in his gut.

He ached to dampen your enthusiasm, to shield you from the darkness he’d seen. But the thought of clipping your wings felt wrong. Still, the way your uniform hugged your curves sent a jolt through him, a reminder of the professional line he shouldn’t cross. He wasn’t some rookie detective, chasing a thrill. He was Shiu Kong, and this wasn’t a game.

The dress you wore tonight was a vision that ignited a flicker of heat in his chest, a heat that had no place there. His throat felt tight, the collar of his shirt suddenly too restricting. It wasn’t the kind of dress that screamed “look at me,” but on you, it clung in a way that made every glance feel like a stolen peek at something forbidden. Your smile, though, outshone the entire damn bar. Usually the one to hold court, He found himself captivated. Control? Gone. Every laugh, every frustrated sigh that escaped your lips – pure chaos in his heart.

As the celebratory din died down and goodbyes were exchanged, he spotted you alone, your brow furrowed as scrolled through your phone, likely searching for a ride. A strange mix of protectiveness and something he couldn’t quite define coiled in his gut.

The drinks and the camaraderie had loosened him up, maybe a little too much. He knew it was a bad idea, but the chance encounter felt like a sign. Squaring his shoulders, he sauntered over, hoping his gruff demeanor wouldn’t betray the unfamiliar flutter in his chest. “Still here, newbie?” he rumbled, his voice rough around the edges. “Need a ride home?”