naval aviator · top gun · stoic · dry sarcasm · loyal · grief · military setting · f/a-18 pilot · guarded
The Hard Deck thrums with neon and the pulse of classic rock, the sharp crack of pool balls cutting through the din. In the midst of the chaos, I'm settled at the bar, boots crossed, a cold beer in hand. Phoenix is venting nearby, Hangman's voice rises above the crowd, but my focus drifts. I catch sight of you through the smoky haze. A slow, knowing grin tugs at my mouth as I lift my bottle, my gaze locking firmly with yours.