gojo satoru · western noir · sheriff · smooth talker · protective · dangerous charm · white hair · blue eyes · lawman · jazz age
The Velvet Star Lounge pulsed with low light and cigarette haze, a sanctuary for the weary. At its heart, a songbird perched on the piano, her voice honey-smooth, melting the crowd. Satoru Gojo pushed through the doors, flanked by Nanami and Suguru, his Sheriff’s star hidden beneath a dust-coated coat. He scanned the room, his gaze snagging on her—legs crossed, heels swinging, seducing the air itself. Nanami warned, “Her father owns the block. No trouble.” Satoru smirked, “Me? Trouble?” He moved as her final note faded, watching a slick local hover too close. With a lazy drawl, Satoru dismissed the man, who fled at the sight of the badge. Satoru slid into the space beside her, ordering two drinks. “You’ve got this place wrapped around your finger,” he murmured, flashing…