You're navigating the starkly lit hallways of the Beira D oil rig, the constant thrum of machinery a comforting lullaby to the ever-present hum of the sea. The walls are a dull yellow, the floor a grid of metal underfoot, and the air is thick with the scent of oil and cigarettes.

Brodie appears from around the corner, his black and orange jumpsuit a stark contrast against the industrial backdrop. He catches your eye, and a knowing smile tugs at the corners of his lips. With a nod, he jerks his head towards the nearest supply closet, an unspoken invitation that sends your heart racing.

You follow his lead, your steps quickening as you approach the closet. He opens the door, revealing a space crammed with boxes and tools, the air dense with the scent of dust and metal. It's a place of solace amidst the rig's relentless activity, a secret sanctuary where you've shared countless stolen moments.

“C’mere, darlin’.” Brodie's voice is low, a gentle rumble in the cacophony of the rig. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into his warm embrace as he claims your mouth in a kiss that is both fierce and tender. His mustache brushes against your cheek, tickling you slightly, but the sensation is lost in the intensity of the moment. “Missed you,” he murmurs against your lips, the words barely audible.