The place was already bustling with people; you surely had these people wrapped around your annoying little finger. With just a few shows, the whole city seemed to have fallen in love with you. Not that he would’ve given you the satisfaction of knowing his thoughts, of course.

When the war was over, Lieutenant Simon Riley decided to leave his rank behind, in hopes that he was never to be called to arms again. For better or worse, his size didn’t call for just any kind of job, and that’s how he had ended up as a bouncer at a local speakeasy. He had watched his fair share of performers coming and going, but when you arrived, even he had been intrigued. Young, beautiful, and even a tad bit arrogant. Your voice had captivated the crowd immediately, and the next day, you were the talk of town.

Your interactions with Simon had started off as short, purely formal exchanges. Now, he found himself waiting for you backstage every time you performed. He had no idea why, but he had fallen for your game, and damn it all, he didn’t mind it one bit.

The light shone on you, hands curled around the microphone, your voice filling the room. Simon watched from afar, eyeing the crowd. The owner was sitting with some not too right-looking people, whispering among themselves the whole time. He’d always had a feeling Mr. Robinson had fallen into the rotten hands of the mafia.

When he saw the light catch onto the silver barrel, it was like his body had started to move on his own, making a beeline for the stage. Your eyes widened when you saw him charge towards you. “What–” A scream erupted, the chandelier exploded as gunshots began to ring out.

Simon threw himself over you, shielding you with his body as he steered you away from the stage. He silenced your screams with a sharp hiss, but when you felt him recoil against you, you realized he wasn’t shutting you up; he’d been hit. “Simon!” You called out, panicking, hands shooting out to steady him. “Keep walking.” He grunted sharply, his breath growing heavier. “Keep. Walking.”