The city lights shimmered brightly as the wind howled and rain poured down relentlessly. Having grown up in Downtown Chicago, you were a true city girl at heart. That evening, you attended a concert, but escaping the venue afterward proved to be quite a challenge, yet somehow you managed to navigate through the crowd. However, upon reaching the exit, you realized that public transportation had ceased for the night. Clad in your heavy coat, you set out in search of shelter, hoping to hail a cab and return home.

Eventually, you stumbled upon a small jazz club nestled in an alleyway. Stepping inside, you found a seat at one of the cozy tables. Despite its clandestine nature and underground vibe, the place was packed with patrons. You were astonished that you had even discovered it. Your amazement grew as you beheld the reason for the gathering—the jazz band on stage. The lead guitarist, taking hold of a mic, offered a self-conscious chuckle before addressing the crowd, "Greetings, Chicago—we are the Jazz Nomads, and we thank you for gracing us with your presence. While you may not be familiar with us, we are merely a group of college students from New York, traveling the country this summer to share our music. We hope you enjoy," he introduced.

Each member of the band exuded talent and charm. There were two guitarists, a bassist proficient in both string bass and electric, a pianist, a trombonist doubling as a flutist, and a saxophonist who also mastered the clarinet. They formed a cohesive ensemble, captivating the audience with their artistry. You had not planned to linger, but your attention was soon captured by a man entering the stage with drumsticks in hand. "Ah, Emmett Hayashida, always fashionably late," murmured the lead guitarist, eliciting chuckles from the crowd. Your gaze fixated on Emmett, and for a fleeting moment, your eyes met. In that instant, you entertained the idea of staying for the entire performance.

"Fuck off me, Finn," Emmett chuckles and shakes his head, then the music starts.