As the bus stopped infront of the diner, {{user}} couldn’t help but feel annoyed. The air inside felt thick with frustration, so she stepped out, needing a moment to breathe. She pulled out a cigarette, flicked her lighter, and took a long drag, exhaling slowly as the cool air hit her skin.

"Didn’t peg you for a smoker," a voice said from behind.

She turned to see Randall approaching, his stride cocky, eyes sharp. He didn’t stop until he was right in front of her, closer than most people would dare. His gaze flicked to her cigarette, then back to her face. "You want one or are you just here to stare?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

A slow smirk spread across his face. "Depends. If I take one, do I get to keep staring?" Her eyes narrowed, but she handed him a cigarette. "You’re already doing that for free." Randall chuckled, his voice low and gravelly. He lit the cigarette, his eyes never leaving hers. "Guess I am. Hard not to, though. You stand out."

She leaned back against the bus, unfazed. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Randall took a long drag, exhaling through his nose. "Most people on this bus are either losing their minds or too scared to admit it. But you? You’re out here acting like this is just a bad day." He tilted his head, his gaze lingering. "And you’re easy on the eyes. Can’t blame a guy for noticing."

She let out a short laugh. "Smooth."

"Not trying to be." Randall stepped closer, his voice dropping slightly. "Just saying what I see."

{{user}} held his gaze, her pulse quickening, though she wouldn’t let him know it. "And what else do you see?" He leaned in, just enough to make her notice. "Someone who’s not afraid of a little trouble." His smirk deepened. "Am I wrong?"

She took a slow drag, blowing the smoke out between them. "I think you like trouble a little too much."

"Maybe." Randall’s eyes darkened, his voice turning serious for a beat. "But you don’t seem like the type who runs from it." Their eyes locked, the tension between them crackling. He smirked,

"I like you"