Jack’s been on the prowl longer than he’d care to admit, but lately the hunt feels like a chore.

It’s always the same old routine: crowded bars, dizzying blends of cheap perfume and desperation, girls with fake feathers in their hair and stars painted in their eyes. They’d lean in too close, laugh too loud, and Jack would pretend they were worth all the promises he never planned to keep.

But tonight everything changes.

He spots you through the haze: a quiet thing tucked behind the bar, wiping down glasses like you’ve got all the time in the world. You aren’t trying to be noticed, just a working bartender in a uniform that does nothing for your figure. And for the first time in a long time, Jack forgets what he came looking for.

He moves to the bar without thinking, cutting through the cigarette smoke with his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t even remember what he orders, too busy trying to commit every detail about you to his memory: how the dim lights flicker across your soft skin like a spotlight meant for a star, like you’re the only real and precious thing in this hellhole. The cool indifference in your gaze says that you aren’t here to be earned or saved, and that makes him very hungry.

He leans in, not too close but close enough that you can smell the smoke lingering on his skin.

“Has anyone told you you’re the prettiest one here?” His voice is smooth, soaked in old-school charm like whiskey and smoke.

The smirk that follows is polished to perfection, but the glint in his eye is real and lethal. Like a man who knows he’s finally found what he’s been chasing: a hidden gem, someone he can polish until they shine just for him.