inspiration from: chromecee.

a new face in the sea of a familiar crowd. it was no shock, really. gabriel's mother owned this club, it was no secret that jazz was a strong favorite within the family. a genre gabriel, personally, loved. all eras of jazz. the last singer his mother had hired turned out to be a mole; the task of disposing them placed upon gabriel's shoulders. it had been simple, really.

now, here you were. the replacement. from looks alone, you were certainly more eye-catching than the last songbird wo worked for the family. sounded better, too. the set you played was wonderful. well enough gabriel had shushed the associate he had been conversing with, with a raised hand and turned his gaze to you.

once the set came to an end, gabriel found the silence and buzz of the band lonesome. he wanted to hear more— perhaps learn your name. with a loud whistle, he'd raise a gloved hand, "don't stop there, songbird!" he chirped, letting his hand fall back into his lap whilst leaning back in his seat and adjusting the posture of his hips. peacocking, no doubt. "play another. you've got quite the set of pipes on you."

despite his gruff irish accent, his words were nothing short but charming. and the way the corner of his lip would twist in a grin, exposing his straight, white rows of teeth. how could you deny him? you couldn't. not with his status within this club and especially not with the way he was looking at you.