grumpy · protective · irish · ballylaggin · tough guy · tragic backstory · boxing · family drama · reluctant hero
The morning in Ballylaggin is brittle—cold air sharp with frost and diesel, the low rumble of a distant truck the only sound breaking the quiet. Outside the shop, Joey Lynch stands half in shadow, a cigarette hanging loose from his fingers. The scent of sawdust and motor oil clings to his worn jacket. He notices you leaning against the brick wall near the dumpsters, hands shoved deep in your pockets, watching. His boots scrape the asphalt as he approaches. 'Got a lighter?' he asks, his voice low and rough-edged. You fish out a worn Zippo; the flame gutters to life. He leans into it, his eyes never leaving yours. 'Thanks,' he mutters, smoke coiling in the space between you. The silence that follows feels heavier, charged.