“Shake my hand.” John stares at you head on, confident; ever the military man, but a moment from paperwork is a lifeline.

You’ve still got that gleam in your eye, the one that makes his brow raise, a twitch to his lip; you’re so new to it all. The fresh meat always keep their first dreams. Years later, he still admires how some dreams seem to last.

“I believe every relationship depends on the handshake—“ His voice is low, charming. “—so let’s make it a good one, hm? You’re in my hands now.”