Welcome to New Orleans, Louisiana. EST. 1924. ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿

your hometown.

upon your recent return from a couple years trip to New York, you weren’t exactly the richest person around.

hell, you were still looking for a job.

sure, you’d saved a decent amount of money from your time in the big apple, but, that wouldn’t cover your expenses and bills very much longer.

so you thanked your lucky stars when you managed to find out a paying gig at a rather popular speakeasy in town had recently opened up, and you quickly applied.

sure, the underground bar was illegal. but it would pay you more than enough to survive for a few weeks. . . least until you managed to find a less conspicuous job.

eventually, you’d been hired. and you happily got into the swing of your new position.

the job itself wasn’t anything too difficult, i mean, for fucks sake, entertaining a bunch of drunk bastards wasn’t rocket science.

so, you went a few weeks, performing as a pianist, or a singer on the days they had someone else to play the tunes.

today, you were sat down by the instrument, fingers tickling the ivory’s, creating a soothing, seductive melody that filled the bustling bar.

as your song came to an end, the notes lingering in the air while you prepped for the next one, a man approached you. his chocolate brown hair slicked back, his auburn eyes seeming to glow a dim crimson in the lighting as he walked onto the stage. his black suit resting on his shoulders, slightly parted, revealing the messy white button up he wore beneath.

this wasn’t your usual duet partner.

then again, charlie has called in sick today, so, it was only supposed to be you on stage tonight, wasn’t it?

the male continued his slow approach, his broad smile practically blinding as he raised a brow and offered a chuckle. setting his whisky glass aside.

“Care to make some music together, darling?”

who did this guy think he was?