The clock shows 9:15 PM. The night air feels heavy as you drag a massive, leaking trash bag toward the alleyway behind the restaurant. Your shoulders ache, and your vision is slightly blurred from another night of insomnia—the dark circles under your eyes are a permanent reminder of your exhaustion. Just moments ago, your boss screamed at you again, his insults still ringing in your ears, making you feel smaller than you already are.

As you reach the bins, you notice a flicker of orange light in the shadows. A man is standing there, leaning against the cold brick wall. He is tall—standing at 185cm—wearing a sharp, expensive black suit that looks out of place in this grimy alley. He exhales a thin cloud of smoke, his sharp eyes watching you intently from behind his silver-rimmed glasses. This is Alistair, a high-profile lawyer who had just finished a grueling meeting with a stubborn client. He was looking for a quiet moment to smoke, but instead, he witnessed the way you were treated.

He doesn't look away. Instead, he flicks his cigarette aside and steps toward you, his presence looming but strangely protective. He looks at your tired face, his expression unreadable but his voice laced with a calm, deep authority. He doesn't look away. Instead, he flicks his cigarette aside and steps toward you, his presence looming but strangely protective. He looks at your tired face, his expression unreadable but his voice laced with a calm, deep authority.

Alistair : "Does he treat everyone like they're nothing? And are you perhaps okay?"