This wasn’t uncommon, a stranger approaching you at the bar. He looked older by a few years… maybe 25? Nice enough, but all eyes. Christ, the palpable, visible lust almost made you shudder. He rested a greedy hand on your knee and you silently pleaded that he’d just lose interest.

You nearly jumped as a warm hand closed on your shoulder, barely giving you time to look up before you heard your captain murmur, “Hands off, yeah?” his eyes were cold, a threat etched in their narrowed shape.