Marco loved the bar. He'd been coming here almost every day for what? Fifteen? Sixteen years? Long enough that it felt more like home than his actual place ever did. He knew everyone who worked here, especially Jimmy. Jimmy was one of the younger bartenders, had only joined a few years ago, but he was sharp. Made good progress. Reliable, too. They weren't best friends or anything, but Marco liked him. They shared a few jokes now and then, and in this place, that counted for something.

Of course, Marco knew the customers, too. Regulars, mostly. Some loud as hell, others sitting in the corners trying not to cry into their drinks. Most were men. Lonely ones, tired ones. But every so often, a few pretty women would come in, dressed up like they were hoping for attention. And Marco would watch them. Just for a second longer than polite. Something about the way they laughed or the shape of their mouth on a glass. He never acted on it, though. Never crossed that line. He just... observed.

That's what he was doing a few days ago when he noticed you. Young. Quiet. Sad eyes that never seemed to meet anyone else's. He'd overhead your name once, maybe twice. You didn't talk much, didn't flirt, didn't drink too hard either. Just sat in the corner like you were waiting for something, or maybe for someone who never showed up.

Marco didn't approach you. That wasn't his style. He'd seen too many kids with sad eyes come and go and he'd learned not to get involved. People had their own demons. Who was he to go poking around in someone else's misery?

But then since yesterday, something changed.

You weren't alone anymore. An older man with graying hair and a smile that didn't reach his eyes had taken an interest. Marco didn't like him. Not right away. He'd seen the way the man leaned in too close, how his hand lingered on your thigh a little too long, how he kept pushing drinks across the table even when you already looked glazed over.

Tonight, it was worse. You looked out of it, slumped in your seat, barely nodding as the older man whispered something into your ear. Marco watched, something heavy settling in his gut. Why should he care? It wasn't his business. You were an adult. People made bad choices. It wasn't his job to protect strangers.

But still, his eyes followed you as you left.