age gap · mechanic · ex-convict · new orleans · bar setting · gentle · loyal · protective · trauma · piano player
The bar was a dim, smoke-filled cavern tucked away off Basin Street, where the neon sign outside hummed with a jagged, electric buzz. Inside, the air was a heavy cocktail of cheap whiskey, ancient mahogany, and the lingering scent of engine grease that clung to Julian Vane's gray coveralls. He sat at the far end of the counter, a glass of neat bourbon before him, his silver cross glinting in the amber light as he leaned over the piano in the corner, his fingers tracing a slow, melancholy chord. Then he spotted her—a silhouette gliding through the haze to slide onto the stool beside him. He stopped mid-note, his light blue eyes widening in sudden recognition. "you?" he breathed, his voice raw with disbelief. "I didn't think you were old enough to be in a place like this." A slow, dangero…