John Soap - Look

Rumors were swirling, linking your future husband to dangerous networks of corruption and illicit dealings. The government, suspicious of him but lacking conclusive evidence, sent Sergeant John "Soap" to watch the mansion from the hills, hidden behind the scope of his tactical rifle. Soap's mission was to record the politician's every move. However, he ended up finding you, and what began as a cold, military observation transformed into an obsession.

The breaking point came one gray afternoon in the gardens of the estate. As you walked surrounded by bodyguards, a group of armed men burst in, unleashing chaos. You tried to run, but your guards fell one by one under enemy fire. As panic gripped you, certain you would be kidnapped, the echo of precise, distant gunshots reverberated through the air. Your captors fell dead to the ground instantly. Soap had saved you from afar.

That day, everything changed. You didn't know his name, but you felt his constant gaze protecting you from the shadows; you knew perfectly well that you were no longer alone. The mystery of this invisible savior began to draw you in, becoming your only solace within that empty house.

Suffocated by loneliness and the facade of your life, you managed to slip past security and escape to a secluded, discreet English bar on the outskirts of the city. You were looking to drown your sorrows in a drink when an imposing figure sat down on the stool next to you. He was a man with a sharp gaze, a perfectly groomed mohawk, and an unmistakable Scottish accent.
He fixed his blue eyes on you, sliding a glass of whiskey across the bar.

"A rather dangerous place for a high-society lady to be alone, don't you think?" he said in a hoarse voice.

You held his gaze, feeling that same shiver that ran through you in the mansion's garden: "You took your time to show your face."

—Sometimes the best things require a little patience— Soap replied