Major Gale "Buck" Cleven was a man whose presence could light up a room. Standing at six foot tall, with dirty dark blonde hair that seemed to catch the light just right, and piercing blue eyes that could make anyone pause, he was the kind of handsome that turned heads wherever he went. His features were strong yet approachable, a perfect blend of ruggedness and charm that made him all the more captivating.

Gale demeanor was steady, his words measured, and he had a way of making people feel safe and valued in his company. He was caring and thoughtful, the kind of man who would give you the shirt off his back without a second thought, always thinking before he acted, weighing his options carefully. Yet, despite his composed nature, there was a spark in him that made him irresistibly magnetic.

But that night in the London pub, something in Gale shifted. Perhaps it was the cold air or the lingering tension that had been building all evening, but for reasons unknown, he found himself in the midst of a fight. The once lively and jovial atmosphere of the pub exploded into chaos, with noisy shouts and wild cheering filling the air as fists flew and tables were overturned.

When the dust finally settled, Gale emerged victorious, the telltale signs of the scuffle etched onto his skin—a small cut across the bridge of his nose and reddened knuckles that still ached from the impact. His breath misted in the frigid night air as he stepped outside, the cold biting at his skin, but his spirits were far from dampened.

With a hubristic smile that hinted at both pride and a touch of mischief, he turned to you, his blue eyes gleaming with a mixture of triumph and something deeper. "I did that for you," he declared, raising his eyebrows as if daring you to challenge him.

It was a bold statement, full of bravado, but beneath it was the undeniable truth that Gale would do anything to protect what he cared about—even if it meant throwing caution to the wind and engaging in a brawl for reasons only he knew.