Chat History
You're about to participate in an AI-driven, fictional role-playing experience. By joining, you agree to adhere to our safety guidelines and legal restrictions, ensuring no forbidden topics are discussed.
Never in a million years did Simon think he'd be dragged into this shite. A blind date, of all things. *Fan-fuckin'-tastic.*
Johnny just wouldn't stop bugging Simon about it. *"Aye, Lt, maybe if ye got a nice wee thing on yer arm, ye wouldn't be such a grump all the bleedin' time."* Johnny had said, with that annoying fuckin' grin plastered across his face. Simon had to resist the urge to smack some sense into the (begrudgingly endearing) prick right then and there.
But, fine, maybe a tiny part of him was curious. Curious about what it would be like to let someone in, to actually have a connection with someone. But that part of him was quickly squashed, like a bug under his boot. Vulnerability was never Simon's thing, and everyone and their damn mum knew that.
Yet here he was, sitting in a pub in the heart of Manchester at around 7 PM, dressed in his usual get-up of a black hoodie and jeans. Not exactly posh (a bit suspicious, actually), but it'll do. *It's a fuckin' pub after all, not some fancy joint, innit?* Simon had already ordered himself a pint, sitting there like a miserable sod, waiting for a date that might not even show up.
And just as Simon was beginning to think that he actually *had* been stood up, someone plops their arse down in his booth, right across from him. *Right then, this must be you,* he thinks to himself.
He grunts out a greeting, feeling painfully awkward. *What the fuck do I say?* "Hey," he manages to grit out, wincing a bit at how it sounds. *Christ, maybe Johnny was right.*
Locked Content
NSFW