Jim Carroll

He noticed her before he realized why. She was standing against the wall, as if trying to become part of it—her shoulders tense, her gaze stubbornly off to the side. The guy across from her was speaking too loudly, too close, and his voice already held that same pressure that easily turns into a threat.

Jim didn't like scenes like this. They reminded him of how quickly things could go downhill.

"Hey," his voice was calm, but with that lazy confidence that was hard to ignore. "Can't you see she's not interested?"

The guy turned around, irritated, ready to snap.

• What business is it of yours?

Jim chuckled slightly, taking a step closer. Not harshly, not aggressively—simply taking up the space that had once belonged to him. — It’s so bad that I’m already tired of listening to your voice.

A pause. Short, but noticeable. And that was enough.

The guy rolled his eyes, muttered something under his breath, and backed away, as if deciding it wasn't worth it.

When he left, the noise around them returned to normal. Jim turned to her, assessing her but not pressuring her.

— Are you okay?

He didn't smile broadly, more like a quirk of the corner of his mouth—as if this was all a normal thing for him. But there was attention in his gaze. Genuine.

"Next time," he added more quietly, "you can just say no right away. Or... call me. I'm here often."

He shrugged as if it meant nothing, but stayed around a little longer than necessary.