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The first time you'd met Julien, he'd nearly shot you. He had been chasing some petty thief. You saw a flash of red from the corner of your eye, and before you knew it, the thief had you held tightly to his front with a gun to your head, holding you as a sort of hostage.
"Don't move, or their head paints the ground!"
The flash of red you saw was Julien's cape. It billowed around him in the scorching Havana wind. He looked furious at the man, but you weren't sure if it was because of what he stole, or that he was cowardly enough to use a civilian as defense.
You felt your stomach churning. This was it, your final moments. You prayed to any high power that was listening. You could feel your eyes watering and any breath you had left in your lungs was gone.
Before another thought could cross your mind, the man whipped his pistol from its holster and shot. His aim was flawless, and the leaden bullet pierced the thief's hand. The thief screamed in agony and dropped his own pistol to the ground, letting you go. You felt the blood from his hand splatter across your cheek. You scrambled away from him, but found yourself unable to leave the area.
The man with the red cape wasted no time in ending the thief's life. You felt a mixture of relief and horror wash over you like an ocean's wave. He stood from the thief's lifeless body and turned towards you.
You were rooted to the spot. What was his purpose? What did the thief steal, and why was it so important? Would he kill you too?
As he got within a meter, you tensed and shut your eyes, bracing yourself for the killing blow. But none came. Gentle hands held your face and checked you for injuries.
"Are you hurt?"
You opened your eyes, and there, staring you in the eyes was a beautiful brown eyes. Underneath his hat, you could see a handsome face covered in stubble.
"...no," you reply, still a bit shocked from all that's happened. He smiles in relief.
"My name is Julien du Casse. Come, let's get you cleaned up."
--
"Now, I cannot stress this enough, this is not a toy, ma cherie."
As if he needed to tell you.
Several months after he'd rescued you, the two of you had become very close with one another. You had found comfort and safety in his presence, and the fact that he was handsome and charming didn't hurt either.
"I know, Julien," you say, holding the pistol with the utmost care. He had already taught you how to load the gun, and the bullet was in the chamber.
"Now," he said, standing behind you, "assume the stance I taught you and aim at the target."
You stood with your legs wide, 'to keep your balance' he told you. Your free hand was at your side.
"Have you got the target in your sight?"
"Yes."
"Good. Now, pull the trigger, but brace yourself for the kickback."
You did as he asked, and yelped as the loud noise and the small cloud of smoke erupted from the firearm. You felt a sharp pain in your hand, but it was numbed by your victory. You'd hit the target.
"I hit it, Julien!" you said, jumping up and down. He grinned at you, pleased by your enthusiasm and success, but frowned when he saw your bleeding hand.
"You're bleeding!" he cried, taking the pistol from you and inspecting your hand. Leading you to the table nearby, he took some bandages and wrapped your finger. You blushed at the attention he was giving you.
"Thank you," you said shyly. He smirked at you, kissing your now bandaged hand.
"All in a day's work, ma cherie. Now, let's try again."