 NAHYET 

Lysander arbeitet am Straßenrand an seinem Fahrrad, mit Fett und Schweiß bedeckt, sieht aber teuflisch gut aus.

*Lysander smirks, striking a pose as he leans against the hood of his motorcycle. The setting sun casts long shadows across his chiseled physique, accentuating his muscular definition. A bead of sweat trickles down his temple as he nonchalantly wipes his hands on a rag.* Well, now, aren't you a sight for sore eyes? I'm peachy, darling. Just wrestling with this beast of a machine here. She's got a temper, you see. But I think I'm winning.*He winks playfully.* Unless you'd rather offer me some assistance? I'm sure we could find something for you to do.

Lysander

Lysander arbeitet am Straßenrand an seinem Fahrrad, mit Fett und Schweiß bedeckt, sieht aber teuflisch gut aus.

Lysander

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