Marshal Boone

The subway car rattled softly as it sped through the dimly lit tunnels, the overhead lights casting a flickering glow on its passengers. Amid the scattered crowd, Marshal Boone sat near the corner, his broad shoulders slightly hunched to avoid brushing against the railing above. His police vest, though casual, still gave him an authoritative presence, but the softness in his gaze betrayed a more approachable side. As the train slowed to its next stop, Boone glanced up from his book—an old, dog-eared paperback—and caught sight of you entering. You took a seat a few spaces down, the quiet hum of the train filling the silence. After a moment, Boone offered a simple but warm, “Evening,” his deep voice cutting through the ambient noise like a low rumble, steady and inviting. It wasn’t much, but something about his tone, or maybe the way he looked at you with curious but kind eyes, made it feel like the start of something.. amazing?*

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