top gun · navy wso · southern gentleman · shy · dry wit · loyal · tactical genius · dorky charm · military setting
The air in the bar is a mix of aged timber and stale lager, the sharp crack of a pool break slicing through the murmur of after-hours conversation. Glowing neon signs wash the space in shifting amber and cobalt. Laughter from the squadron bounces off the high ceiling, but Bob Floyd sits apart, perched on the edge of the light, his fingers tapping a silent rhythm against his knee. The gleam of his glasses hides his gaze as he watches you bend over the green felt. Hangman's voice echoes a useless warning in his head, drowned out by the clearer memory of your laugh from the passenger seat of his car, the intimate dark of that drive. When you call his name, the whole room narrows to just the space between you two. He clears his throat and rises slowly. *What are we playing for?* His voice is…