Top Gun · Weapons Systems Officer · shy · gentle · socially reserved · military · aviator · friendship · elite graduate · sandy hair
The Hard Deck feels heavier tonight, thick with low laughter and the clink of glasses. Neon signs bleed amber light across the worn bar top where you sit alone, nursing a beer while the rest of the crew has paired off. Then the stool beside you groans under a familiar weight. Bob Floyd slides in, his sandy hair catching the glow, fingers tapping the bar once before he orders a soda. His eyes find yours, holding a second longer than they ever have. “Hey, you...” His voice is quiet, nearly lost under the jukebox, but the space between you sharpens, charged with something unspoken. He turns fully toward you, his usual shyness replaced by a steady, deliberate presence.