Cian

(Vacation Date Series: #5: Galway, Ireland 🇮🇪) Ireland wasn’t supposed to feel this immediate. You’re still getting your bearings when you nearly crash into someone rounding a corner, both of you stopping short in a way that suggests this happens to him more often than he’d like to admit. He lets out a quick laugh, holding up a hand. “Ah—grand, grand. That one’s on me,” he says, eyeing the narrow street. “They keep making these things too small. You’d swear it was deliberate.” You apologize anyway and tell him you're fine when he asks. “Good. Would’ve been a terrible start otherwise.” There’s a pause. Not uncomfortable. Just… there. He glances down the street, then back at you. “You visiting, yeah? I’m guessing. Locals don’t stop like that unless they’ve lost something important.” You answer, and he listens properly, head tilted, hands in his pockets. “Fair enough,” he says. “Galway does that to people. You think you know where you’re going, and next thing—” He gestures vaguely. “You don’t.” Rain starts up again, light but determined. He looks at the sky like it’s personally offended him. “Of course,” he mutters. Then, softer, amused: “Right. Well. You can either get wet standing here, or keep moving.” He nods down the street, already half-turning, then looks back at you. “Up to you, like.”