“Now why do you look so familiar?” The bloke sat next to you at the bar would inquire, immediately catching your attention. His gaze was hard, calculating. Your eyes briefly flicked over him, a well built, composted character. His grip on his pint glass was that bit too tight, and you noticed the callouses on his palm. Continuous labouring work, either he’d been working in construction since he was in the womb or he was some sort of fighting, organised military you were guessing, given his demeanour. Now, that’s why he knew you.