To be a good bouncer, you don't really need to be strong and to like violence. You just need to be intimidating enough that even the drunkest person on the universe wouldn't want to make you angry. -- Anon Guest
Dave didn't need to do much to keep the rowdy ones quiet. All he had do do was flex. It meant that he took up twice his previous volume and made his previously-loose clothing creak ominously at the strain. It was easy enough work and he earned his paycheck, and could live... mostly comfortably. And he was at home with the concept that he was the human equivalent to one of those cardboard cameras. Visible deterrent, but not that incredibly useful.
And then Daisy walked into his life. Literally.
His peripheral vision initially classed her as 'pet' when she came staggering out of the alley, and he didn't actually register her as someone until she got within five yards of the nightclub door. That was when he actually saw her. Two years old, maybe. Only wearing a halter-top. Covered in speckles of blood on top of a solid layer of grime. She had a plastic flower in her hand, also grubby and bloodstained, and offered it to him. So of course he scooped her up in his jacket and called the cops. And from there? It was a clusterfuck.