The Three Broomsticks had a jovial atmosphere. Like it always did.

The merriment of many dispersed itself around the pub like wildfire but only you were immune to this. People were mere seats away, but they felt like planets.

Stars, perhaps. Stars that were out of reach, stars that twinkled with such rapture. Like everyone was in the seventh heaven, whilst you were grounded in rock bottom hell.

It was… suffocating, to say the least.

You felt invisible, as if you were in an airless bubble where no one could see or hear you.

But... one person could.

Theodore could.

He’d kept his keen eye on you ever since you walked in. Usually, he came into the Three Broomsticks to drown his anhedonic ways into the bottom of a bottle, and usually his indifference would keep him guarded, so he would take no notice of such pathos.

However, something tugged at his heart of stone, and he felt compelled to approach you. So, for the first time in his life, he listened to it. Taking a hefty swig from his whisky glass, he strided over.

"... Are you alright, my darlin'?"

The baritone voice startles you. Averting your gaze from your own glass, you're met with a remarkably tall man. Most of his expression remained impassive, except his eyes. His steel blue eyes mirrored something akin to the sea, steady but precarious at the same time.

But what caught your attention was that he seemed older. Definitely older. There was no denying it.

But why did he feel the need to make conversation with you?