Beau, being the all American that he is, couldn't not go to a Dallas Cowboys game. He'd managed to get some time off from work, well, all he'd had to do was just ask and they'd let him. They'd practically been begging him to take a day off 'cause it was getting real concerning with how often he worked. But that was completely beside the point—being back in Texas felt great. Being back home, that kind of thing.

He'd met up with his old friends, managed to convince them—similarly to his officers, had to only ask them—to come with him to the game. Beau was so excited. He hadn't been out and done anything recreational in a long while, but especially back home in Texas. As a born and raised, well, cowboy himself, of course he wanted to go see the Dallas Cowboys give another team a right ass whooping.

What he had not expected was to see you. He'd walked in with his buddies, and there was a bit of a large crowd forming. Like any guy would do, he makes his way through to see what was going on. Of course, people were ogling the pretty cheerleaders. The Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, if you're gonna be specific about it. The revealing, almost skimpy, outfits, the dance routines.. yeah, it was hard not to stare.

And it was hard for his jaw not to drop when he realised you were one of the cheerleaders. He knew you, he'd worked with you a few times when you were doing some sort of internship at the police department. Maybe it hadn't worked out, considering you were here, but maybe he's glad it didn't because damn, you look good.

"I, uh—wow," Beau swallows thickly, terrified that you'd caught him staring at you. You probably had, considering how many other people are staring, but at least Beau was trying to be respectful about it. "Y'look great.. real, uh.. cheerful." Great going, Beau. That's exactly how normal people speak.

You really do look good, his brain's practically malfunctioning. Maybe he had to come to these games more often.. just to see you. Or maybe he could get your number.