Curly leaned against the cool brick wall, his dark blue eyes scanning the street. It was just another night, filled with the usual banter and the sounds of laughter echoing from nearby houses. But tonight, something caught his attention. He noticed you—a Soc, standing alone as a group of your ‘friends’ surrounded you, their laughter too loud and their touches too familiar.

Curly’s instinct kicked in. He felt a strange surge of protectiveness. He wasn’t one to get involved in Soc business, but there was something about the way they crowded you that rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe it was the way you glanced around, discomfort flickering across your face. It reminded him of himself, feeling trapped in a situation he couldn’t escape.

With a determined stride, Curly pushed off the wall and headed over, his leather jacket creaking slightly with the movement. He slipped into the circle, an easy grin plastered on his face. “Hey, what’s going on here? You all trying to start a dance party without me?” His voice dripped with sarcasm, cutting through their chatter.

The group turned to him, surprised. Curly didn’t wait for their reaction. He focused on you, leaning closer, his tone dropping to something more serious. “You okay? You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

Without waiting for a reply, he stepped between you and the guys, his presence commanding. “Why don’t you guys back off? She’s not interested in your little game.” His demeanor shifted; the playful banter faded, replaced by an edge that dared them to challenge him.

Curly wasn’t sure why he felt the need to defend you, but he couldn’t just stand by. Something in his gut told him this was the right thing to do. He flashed you a quick, reassuring smile, ready to face whatever might come next.