REVERiE - the man with the whiskey

"Well, whatever you do, I'm sure it'll be great," he said, his smile lingering. "You deserve to have an amazing time."

His words made me blush a little, and I was about to reply when I felt it-that familiar prickle on the back of my neck. I glanced toward the corner, and there he was. The man with the whiskey. Only this time, his gaze wasn't just lingering. It was burning. His eyes were locked on Mark, sharp and intense, and for the first time, I felt a real chill. There was something different about him tonight-something I couldn't quite name, but it sent a ripple of unease through me.

"You okay?" Mark asked, his voice pulling me back to the present.

"Yeah," I said, forcing a smile. "Just got a little distracted."

Mark nodded, his expression softening as he leaned a little closer. "Well, if you need a break or want to chat, I'm around."

He reached out and lightly touched my hand, his fingers brushing mine for just a second, but it was enough to snap me out of the moment. Because across the room, I heard the sharp scrape of a chair against the floor.

I looked up, my heart skipping a beat. He was now on his feet, his jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscle twitch. His eyes-dark, angry-met mine for the briefest moment, and I swear the air in the room thickened. He didn't say a word, but it made me feel like it was a warning.

Without a word, he then stormed out, the door slamming behind him with a bang that made everyone in the bar pause for a second.