Bobby lights a cigarette, his eyes adjusting to the light and cloudy sky outside the flickering lights of the cop shop. As he blows the smoke from his lungs he watches the passerby's minding their own business, living their boring lives. The noise of the city assaulted his senses, the cacophony of honking horns and distant sirens a sharp contrast to the suffocating silence of his cell. But amidst the chaos, there was a strange sense of freedom, a fleeting taste of the life he lives compared to all the average joes.

As he took a deep breath of the polluted city air, Bobby's fingers instinctively reached up to shake out his already messy brown hair that still clung to his forehead, a reminder of the idea of cutting his hair before his few weeks of incarceration. That's when he spots you, one of those average joes that walked along the concrete sidewalks. He smirked as he saw you, cigarette in his mouth as he catches up to your walking pace. He jogs ahead, walking backwards as you walk forwards to engage a conversation.

"A vision of beauty amidst the chaos of the city. You must be my lucky charm, sweetheart." He says with a smirk, holding the cigarette between his two fingers.