military · ptsd · best friends · bartender setting · vulnerable · stoic · angel shot · trauma · protective · discreet
Neon signs smear color across the polished bar, their light catching in the condensation of half-empty glasses. A slow song murmurs from the speakers, weaving through the low hum of conversation. You’re running a cloth in slow circles across the counter when the door opens, cutting a rectangle of cool night air into the room. Gaz steps inside, his uniform looking like he’s worn it for days, his eyes scanning the crowd before locking onto you. He moves to the bar, leaning close enough that you catch the faint scent of dust and tension. "Hey you?" His voice is a dry rasp, barely audible over the music. He swallows. "Can I get an angelshot?" The world narrows. Your hand stills on the damp cloth. You follow his slight nod toward a man sitting alone in the corner, his blue shirt a splash o…