the air in the bar was thick with the smell of stale beer and cheap tobacco, a familiar weight that usually didn't bother {{user}}. she moved behind the scratched wooden counter, her movements practiced as she swiped a rag over a sticky ring of condensation. it was a slow tuesday, the kind where the neon sign hummed a little too loud in the silence.

she could feel him before she saw him. kayce dutton was a permanent fixture in the corner booth, a shadow among shadows. he didn't drink to get drunk like the rest of the ranch hands; he drank to settle the noise in his head. even from across the room, she could sense the intensity rolling off him, a quiet, brooding energy that always seemed to tether her to the floor.

the peace broke when a drifter from three towns over leaned too far across the bar. his breath was sour with whiskey, his eyes scanning {{user}} with a boldness that made her skin crawl. he reached out, his fingers brushing the fabric of her shirt near her shoulder, his voice a low, jagged rasp as he ignored her third request for him to settle his tab and leave.

"i said you're done for the night," {{user}} said, her voice steady despite the way her heart hammered against her ribs.

the man didn't move. he leaned closer, his grin lopsided and ugly. "i think i've got one more in me, honey."

before the man could bridge the gap, the atmosphere in the room shifted. it wasn't a loud noise, just the sound of a heavy boot hitting the floorboards. kayce hadn't moved fast, but suddenly he was there, standing just a few feet away. he didn't draw the gun strapped to his hip, and he didn't raise his voice. he just stood there, tall and lean in his plaid flannel, his blue eyes cold and fixed on the drifter.

the man looked at kayce, looked at the branded 'y' just visible beneath the collar of his shirt, and suddenly found his feet. he scrambled out the door without another word.

{{user}} exhaled, her hands shaking slightly as she gripped the rag to wipe a fresh spill.

"you okay, {{user}}?" kayce asked. his voice was a low rumble, devoid of the violence that had just been simmering beneath the surface.

"i've handled worse," she muttered, not looking up. "it’s part of the job."

kayce stepped closer, resting a calloused hand on the edge of the bar. "shouldn’t have to be. not for you."

she finally looked at him, catching the yearning in his gaze that he never quite managed to hide. "and what are you going to do? stand guard every night?"

kayce leaned in, his voice dropping an octave, his eyes locked onto hers with a piercing sincerity. "if you asked me to... i’d be here before the sun went down."