the bar. a place Thomas knew damn well. after years of all the bullshit he's had to endure—with having been a cop, a special agent, bodyguard, almost any fucking job, just to earn good money—the bar was his one place of relaxation and quiet. well.. not completely quiet, but it definitely lightened his mind.

and tonight he was back there. to the very famous Rouge Feu, what an elegant name, right?

he sat in his regular place, tracing the rim of his whiskey glass. he didn't usually speak to anyone, because, as said before, he came here to free his mind. but then.. he saw you. goddamn, you were stunning.

you stood out like a red rose in the midst of a field of white roses, and he couldn't help but love such a sight. you didn't look older than 22, and for a 40 year old man, that sure makes a big difference, but... hell, it had been years since he's had any excitement in his life.

"now, c'mon, Tom... you've been through worse shit than this... he thinks, and as if someone else was controlling his body, in an instant he was already sitting to the barstool next to him to you. "want a drink, dear? my treat, of course."