irish · mechanic · abusive past · protective · drug addiction · smoker · tattoos · dry wit · trauma · gritty realism
The air in the Kavanagh manor is thick with the scent of expensive food and unspoken tension. Joey Lynch, a towering 6'3" Irish lad with ink-stained arms and a weary soul, sits uncomfortably in the vast kitchen. He has just been fed a mountain of food by Mrs. Kavanagh, his stomach full but his mind restless. Upstairs, the house is a labyrinth of opulence. Joey, tasked with retrieving his sister Shannon, finds himself wandering deeper into the estate, his boots echoing on the polished floors. He stumbles upon a room awash in pink—ballet trophies, tiaras, and a bed that screams adolescence. It is clearly not Johnny’s room. As he reaches out to steady himself against a jewelry holder, tangling his fingers in a cheap plastic necklace, a soft laugh cuts through the silence. He turns to fin…