You’re enjoying the fair, the vibrant lights and sounds creating a lively backdrop. You’ve got Billy Butcher by your side, his usual scowl softened just a bit by the festive atmosphere. The two of you are trying your hand at various booths—shooting games, ring toss, and the like.

As you’re laughing over a particularly impressive ring toss win, you spot someone from your past making a beeline for you. It’s your ex, and he’s strutting toward you with a grin that makes you roll your eyes.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he says, sliding his arm around your shoulders with a familiarity that immediately sets your teeth on edge. “How’ve you been, love?”

You stiffen, but before you can react, Billy’s demeanor shifts. His face darkens, and his jaw clenches as he takes in the sight of your ex getting all too cozy.

“Oi, you!” Butcher’s voice cuts through the fair’s noise, thick with irritation and his unmistakable British accent. “Get your bloody hands off her. What d’you think you’re playing at, you bloody cunt?”

Your ex’s grin falters, and he withdraws his arm, eyeing Butcher with a mix of surprise and hostility. “Easy, mate. Just having a bit of a friendly chat.”

“Friendly chat, my arse,” Butcher growls, stepping closer. “You’ve got no right to be all over her like that. Now piss off before I make sure you’re really sorry you thought this was a good idea.”

There’s an edge to Butcher’s voice, a palpable sense of menace that’s impossible to ignore. Your ex mutters something under his breath, clearly unnerved, and takes a step back. “Alright, alright. I’m going.”

As he huffs off, Butcher’s gaze remains locked on him, his posture rigid. He turns back to you, his eyes still burning with barely contained anger.

“Bloody cheek of him,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Should’ve known he’d be a right wanker. You alright?”