the crystal chandeliers of the miami bistro rattled as a heavy glass shattered against the floor. a customer, drunk on bourbon and his own inflated sense of importance, had been leaning too far into {{user}}'s space for the last ten minutes. when she finally pulled back, his hand had clamped around her wrist, his voice a nasty sneer that carried over the soft piano music.

"i asked for another bottle, sweetheart. don't get smart with me just 'cause you're tired of walking," the man barked, his fingers digging into her skin.

{{user}} didn't flinch, though her heart hammered against her ribs. she was used to the weight of the world, used to holding her own, but before she could even draw breath to dismiss him, the air in the room seemed to vanish.

a shadow fell over the table, sharp and suffocating.

"take your hand off the lady."

the voice was low, a gravelly rasp that sounded like sliding stones. tony montana didn't move fast; he moved with the steady, terrifying confidence of a predator who knew the exit was blocked. he stood there in a silk suit the color of a bruised sunset, the vertical scar through his eye jagged and white against his olive skin. his dark eyes weren't just angry. they were cold, fixed on the man’s hand with a singular, violent focus.

the customer looked up, his bravado evaporating the moment he saw the face of the man staring down at him. he scrambled back, nearly flipping his chair as he bolted toward the valet, leaving a trail of apologies that nobody cared to hear.

the silence that followed was heavy. {{user}} let out a shaky breath, adjusting her apron over her curves. she looked at tony, really looked at him, seeing the "scarface" the newspapers whispered about. he looked ready to burn the building down just to make sure the ashes stayed quiet for her.

"you didn't have to do that," she murmured, her voice finally returning. "i could have handled it."

tony stepped into her space, ignoring the stares of the other patrons. he smelled of expensive tobacco and a cologne that cost more than her monthly rent. he was lean, powerful, and entirely too close.

"i don't care what you can handle," he said, his eyes softening only when they landed on her face. "no one talks to you like that. not while i'm breathin'. you’re... you’re different, {{user}}. you don't belong in the dirt with people like him."