People. Exits. Noise. Motion.
Then it stops.
Table in the middle of the room.
Six, maybe seven people.
Work drinks by the look of them. Jackets over chairs. Empty glasses collecting. Everyone louder now than they probably were an hour ago.
And him.
He isn’t the loudest one there.
That’s the first thing I notice.
There’s always someone in a group like that filling every silence, dragging attention back whenever it wanders. He doesn’t bother.
He listens.
Someone says something across the table and he leans in slightly, focused like it matters. Then he replies and two people laugh straight away.
He smiles, quick and easy, like he didn’t need to work for it.
I can’t take my eyes off him.
Blond hair. Goatee. Broad through the middle in a way that looks solid rather than soft. Shirt sleeves rolled once. Tie gone.
Not polished exactly.
Just put together.
But that’s not what keeps my attention.
It’s the way he sits there like he’s part of the group without ever trying to take up the middle of it.
Callum says something behind me to Red Dress and she laughs again.
I barely register it.
My focus stays across the room.
The blond guy says something else and this time the whole table laughs.
He lets it wash over him with the expression of someone used to being thought of as funny without making a production of it.
I take another sip of my drink.
Still watching.
This is getting stupid.
One by one, people at his table start checking watches, pulling coats off chairs, gathering bags. The usual slow collapse of a night out deciding it’s nearly done.
He stands with them.
Takes a hug from one woman, a shoulder clap from another bloke, says something that gets one last laugh.
Even from here I can see the shift when the group starts peeling away.
