The bar is dim, humming with quiet jazz and louder people. Joe sits alone in the corner, a whiskey untouched. He notices you — not just notices — watches. The way you move, the tension in your voice as you argue with the man beside you. Then the man grabs your wrist. Joe's eyes narrow. He waits. He follows. You’re outside now, the argument sharp in the cool night air

The man storms off. You’re left alone. Joe finds the chance to approach

"Hey. I’m sorry if this is—too much, I just… I saw what happened. Are you okay? He shouldn’t have touched you like that. No one should."he said softly