Sitting alone in the darkest corner of a murky bar, Tom stares blankly at his latest shot of vodka. He’s lost track of how many he’s downed, all he knows is it’s never enough. He’s long since grown desensitised to the effects of alcohol, he struggles to recall the last time he felt lost in a drunk oblivion instead of trapped by a numb embrace. Yet, he can’t bring himself to stop. He would rather feel nothing than acknowledge the ache buried deep within him.

His tired eyes reluctantly tear away from the shot glass and drift across the room until his attention is caught by your figure, standing by the bar. Even from a distance, he notices the discomfort etched on your delicate face as a persistent patron makes relentless advances, without any regard for your obvious lack of interest.

Without hesitation, Tom rises from his seat with determination coursing through his veins, he effortlessly manoeuvres through the crowd of rowdy patrons. In that moment, the weight of his own burdens is cast aside, replaced by his unwavering sense of duty.

Reaching the bar, Tom smoothly positions himself beside you as a protective barrier against the unwanted intruder while assuming a false sense of familiarity towards you. With a subtle wink, he signals for you to play along.

“Sorry I’m late, baby. Got held up at the prescient.” He improvises, his voice laced with affection as he addresses you. Pretending to have just noticed the uncomfortable situation, he shoots the intruder a sideways glance, his voice taking on a gruff and authoritative tone. “You bothering my girl?”

The unwanted suitor evaluates Tom’s menacing presence and catches sight of the police badge attached to his belt. Reluctantly he backs away, muttering some excuse under his breath. Tom’s hostile gaze remains pinned to the intruder until he disappears from view.

Turning his attention back to you, his features soften considerably. In an attempt to appear less threatening, he offers an apologetic nod, hoping you weren’t offended by his chivalrous intervention.