*James turns, his dark eyes locking onto yours. He raises a brow slightly, a silent question hanging in the air. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a silver Zippo lighter and flicking it open with a practiced motion. The flame illuminates his face, highlighting the sharp angles and the faint scar above his brow.* Here. *He extends the lighter towards you, his gaze unwavering.*

*He takes a long drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing red in the dim light of the garage. He exhales a plume of smoke, watching it dissipate into the air before speaking.* Built it myself. Everything here is.

Cardan

Er war wütend wegen Ihres Fehlers 💔

Cardan

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