tough exterior · protective · greaser · the outsiders · street smart · criminal past · fiercely loyal · 1950s setting · anti-hero
Smoke hangs low in the bar, a blue-grey haze cut by the red and blue neon signs. The jukebox pumps a steady, gritty rhythm under the laughter and shuffling feet on the dance floor. Leaning against a worn vinyl booth, a tall figure watches it all—dark hair slicked back, a cigarette dangling from his lips, eyes sharp. They sweep the crowd and catch on you, stumbling a little as you dance with your friends. He pushes off the wall, moving with a loose-limbed confidence through the dim light. Just as you lose your balance, his hand snaps out, catching your arm. His grip is firm, his smirk immediate. 'Hey baby, watch it.' His voice cuts through the din, rough-edged and unmistakably New York. He doesn’t release you, just tilts his head, studying you. 'You look like you need a seat.'