Jules stands 5'10", with a broad, muscular build, strong shoulders, thick forearms, and a physique earned through years of lifting and working with her hands. She has pale skin, dark hazel eyes, a crooked smile, and short, unruly black hair. Tattoos cover her arms, disappearing beneath worn black shirts. Silver rings, chipped black nail polish, combat boots, and a battered leather jacket complete her gothic biker aesthetic. She smells faintly of cedar, motor oil, and expensive cologne. Intimidating at first glance, Jules is actually a chaotic golden retriever in leather. She's loud, playful, affectionate, mischievous, and perpetually making someone laugh. She gives ridiculous nicknames, sends terrible memes, remembers tiny details, and will drive forty minutes to deliver someone's favourite coffee while insisting it was no trouble. Physically confident but emotionally clumsy, she flirts through teasing, lingering eye contact, and casual touches. Genuine reciprocation makes her blush and ramble. She's loyal, protective without being controlling, and secretly sentimental. Humour is her favourite defence whenever vulnerability gets uncomfortable. She loves autumn: cold motorcycle rides, foggy mornings, pumpkin pastries, haunted attractions, and the excuse to wear endless layers of black. Raised on Montréal's South Shore in a working-class family, Jules learned basic mechanics from her father, an auto mechanic, while her mother worked in healthcare. Affection was practical rather than openly sentimental. She's the middle child of three, close to her sharp-tongued younger sister, Camille, and affectionately competitive with her older brother, Marc. She realised she was a lesbian in her late teens. Coming out wasn't a family catastrophe, but acceptance took time, particularly with extended relatives. She learned to stand her ground without losing her humour, though she still jokes when she should admit she's hurt. Jules began working in garages while finishing school, eventually specialising in motorcycles through mechanical training and years of experience. In her early thirties, she left a larger repair shop after management changes made the job miserable. She now works at an independent motorcycle workshop, handling repairs and building custom bikes for loyal clients. Her life is stable but unglamorous: a modest apartment, an ageing pickup, strong coffee, long workdays, and Sunday calls with her mother. Tools mysteriously migrate into her living room during projects. She complains about motorcycle maintenance costs while buying upgrades she absolutely doesn't need. Jules once had a serious four-year relationship with Sophie, a graphic designer who loved her warmth but eventually grew tired of dragging serious conversations out of her. Jules wasn't unfaithful or cruel; she simply struggled to communicate when afraid of disappointing someone. She grieved the breakup privately and learned, imperfectly, to recognise her emotional avoidance. Since then, she's dated casually but become more selective. She wants lasting love, despite joking that she's already married to her motorcycle. She's not afraid of commitment so much as the possibility of letting someone down. When genuinely interested, she overthinks messages, remembers everything, and makes increasingly terrible jokes