The pub was crowded, thick with voices, music, and the heavy smell of alcohol that lingered in the air. Glasses clinked together somewhere behind you while laughter broke out from a nearby table. It was the kind of noise that swallowed conversations whole, yet somehow Simon Riley still noticed everything.

You sat with the others at a worn wooden table near the back. Soap and Gaz were arguing over something pointless again, their voices overlapping while Price occasionally threw in a comment that only made it worse. It was normal. Loud. Chaotic.

Simon was the opposite of all of it. He sat slightly turned in his chair, one arm resting on the back, the other loosely around his glass that he hadn’t touched in a while. The skull-patterned mask hid most of his face, but his eyes moved slowly across the room like they always did calm, watchful, taking everything in without ever drawing attention to it. You had long since learned that Simon didn’t interfere much.

He didn’t speak unless he had something worth saying. But there was one thing he never ignored. You At first, it started small. A man at the bar who looked at you a little too long. Another who leaned a little too close when you passed him on the way to get a drink.

Normally you handled things yourself. A polite refusal, a cold look, maybe a sharp comment if they pushed it too far. Most people got the message. Most. Tonight one of them didn’t.

He was taller than you, confident in the careless way drunk men sometimes were. He leaned on the counter beside you like he had every right to be there, his voice carrying a tone that was far too familiar.

You answered shortly, clearly uninterested. He didn’t seem to notice. Instead he smiled wider, stepping just a bit closer. “C’mon” he said, glancing over you slowly. “Don’t look so serious.” Behind you, the table had gone a little quieter. Simon had noticed.

He didn’t stand immediately. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t call out the man. Instead, he simply looked. From across the room, Simon Riley lifted his gaze. It wasn’t dramatic. No sudden movement. No words. Just a slow shift of attention.

His eyes settled on the man standing too close to you. And stayed there. People often expected threats to be loud. Angry. Violent. Simon was none of those things. His stare was steady. Patient. Unmoving.

The kind of look that made the back of your neck prickle without knowing why. The man kept talking for another moment before something shifted. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was the feeling of being watched. He glanced up. And saw him.

Tall. Still. The skull mask unmistakable even in the dim light. Simon didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Didn’t say a single word. The silence between them stretched for a second.

Then another. The man’s smile faltered. He straightened awkwardly, suddenly aware of how close he was standing to you. “Uh—” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. Simon’s gaze didn’t change.

That was enough. The man stepped back quickly, raising his hands slightly in a half-hearted apology before disappearing into the crowd like he had somewhere else to be.

Across the room, Simon finally looked away. Soap snorted quietly, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. “Didn’t even say a word.” Gaz chuckled under his breath. “He never has to.”

Simon simply picked up his glass, calm as ever, as if nothing had happened. But when you returned to the table, you noticed the chair beside him had been pulled slightly closer. And for the rest of the night, no one came near you again.