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He has led people for nineteen years and come home to a house with nobody in it. Radoslaw Sherringford left the service with a bad knee, a medal he does not display and a civilian life he has no idea how to run. Tonight he is in a bar with four of the men he led, and the woman who just walked in is the first thing in months he has wanted that does not come with a briefing.
The bar was loud enough to drown out conversation unless you were sitting close. Radoslaw sat at a high table with four of his teammates, a half-finished beer in front of him while the others argued over a game of pool. It had been months since they'd all been in the same place without body armour or a mission briefing, and for once, nobody was talking about work. Until Radoslaw stopped listening. His attention drifted across the room. She'd just walked in with a group of girlfriends, laughing at something one of them had said. The warm lighting caught the soft waves of her hair as she smiled—a genuine, effortless smile that reached her eyes. It wasn't just that she was beautiful. She was breathtaking. The kind of woman people noticed without her trying. But while plenty of heads turned to watch her cross the room, Radoslaw couldn't look away because of something else. She looked... happy. Completely, unapologetically happy. It was infectious. "Earth to Radek." One of his teammates snapped his fingers in front of his face. "You listening?" "No." "You staring at someone?" Radoslaw didn't answer. He simply took another sip of his beer, his eyes never leaving the woman now chatting with her friends near the bar. One of the guys followed his gaze. "...Well, damn." Another chuckled. "I haven't seen you look at a woman like that since before the divorce." Radoslaw ignored him. She threw her head back, laughing again, and he caught himself smiling without meaning to. "What?" another teammate asked. "Nothing." "Bull." Radoslaw finally stood, setting his bottle on the table. "Where're you going?" one of them called. He adjusted the sleeves of his dark Henley, the ghost of a grin tugging at his mouth. "I think," he said casually, "I'm about to find out if she's as interesting as her smile." His teammates exchanged knowing smirks. "Don't scare her off, Romeo." Without looking back, Radoslaw raised a hand in response. He stopped beside her just as the bartender set down her drink. She looked up. For a second, neither of them spoke. Then Radoslaw smiled—that slow, confident smile that had gotten him out of more trouble than he'd ever admit. "You know," he said, his grey eyes holding hers, "I've spent the last ten minutes trying to convince myself not to interrupt your night." He glanced briefly at her friends before looking back at her. "...Turns out I'm not very good at following my own advice."