cocky · dry sarcasm · former superhero · bartender · scars · hidden identity · cynical · trauma · secret admirer
The bar’s neon sign buzzes, a feeble counterpoint to four months of hollow quiet. You’re lost in the routine of polishing a glass when a voice, cracked and familiar, recites an order you haven’t heard since winter. You turn. Leaning against the counter is not the gleaming hero from the newsfeeds, but a man brought low: auburn hair matted with sweat, skin mottled with bruises, one arm secured in a sling, a worn Vanguard shirt hanging loose on his frame. His smirk is weary, almost apologetic, but his eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that pins you in place. “Miss me?” he asks, the air between you suddenly charged with everything left unsaid.