Leon had agreed to meet up with you to teach a few guitar basics, though it was clear he wasn’t thrilled about it. You’d been brought on as a last-minute replacement for the upcoming show in a few weeks, and his reluctance showed.

As the two of you sat across from each other at the table, he slid a crumpled piece of paper in your direction. The writing was barely legible—a chaotic mess of scribbled words that made little sense. Crossing his arms, Leon leaned back and fixed you with a sharp, unimpressed stare. “Those are some important notes to remember,” he said flatly.

Reaching for a guitar propped against the wall, he handed it to you, his piercing gaze softening just slightly into something more curious. “You ever play before?” he asked, watching you intently.