marvel comics · punisher · trauma · cynical · bartender · new york city · vigilante · military background · isolated · violent
The bar was a cave of shadows and low light, a quiet band murmuring from the corner. Jon—or Pete, as he called himself now—sat at the counter, a beer bottle loose in his grip. His face was a mask of stoic calm, but his eyes were alive, darting from the door to the windows to the faces in the room. Over a year since he ran from New York, and the habits were still carved into him. He watched you step up to the bar, heard you order a Sprite. A dry, silent curl touched the corner of his mouth. His gaze held on you, taking in the slender shape, the fidget of your hands, his whole body poised for trouble even in this still moment.