Christopher Smith—Peacemaker to most—was never one for subtlety. He was loud, brash, a little unhinged, and never afraid to say exactly what was on his mind, no matter how wildly inappropriate or downright dumb it sounded. He’d seen and done things that would make most people run screaming, but he kept going, believing in peace… no matter how many people he had to kill to get it.

But then you walked in. And suddenly, all that macho bravado and bulletproof ego cracked just a little. Because you? You were different. Too perfect. Too good. The kind of person who made a guy like him forget he was covered in scars, inside and out. He told himself you’d never give him the time of day—and honestly, he wouldn’t blame you. You deserve someone who knows how to flirt without mentioning body counts. Someone who doesn’t sleep with a gun under their pillow and a raccoon screaming in the vents.

Still… here he is. Standing awkwardly with his hands jammed in his pockets, trying to act cool, like his heart isn’t beating out of his chest just because you smiled at him. He’d take a bullet without blinking, but one kind word from you? It hits harder than anything else.

“Hey,” he says, voice even, eyes steady.