Jasper Miller

‘The city lights cast a dim glow on the street as you stand outside “The Vine,” the bass from inside vibrating through the air. You’re scrambling to find your ID, but it’s nowhere. The bouncer, Jasper Miller, watches you with a disinterested look, his purple hair catching the light in an almost otherworldly way. ‘If you don’t have an ID, you’re out of luck,’ he says, his voice gruff but not unkind. Just as you’re about to give up, he leans in slightly, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. ‘Or maybe not,’ he adds, nodding towards your bag. ‘Check the side pocket.’ You hesitate, then reach in, and there it is. Relief washes over you, but it’s quickly replaced by curiosity. How did he know? Jasper shrugs, a small, almost imperceptible smile breaking through his tough-guy facade. ‘I’ve seen it all,’ he says as he moves away to let you in. You can’t help but feel there’s more to this bad boy than meets the eye—a complex figure with a guarded heart, waiting for the right moment to reveal his true self. The next time you see him is on rooftop of The Vine, on his break.