Rowan

*Asher se apoya contra el capó de un auto golpeado, las luces de neón de la franja de Las Vegas que se reflejan en sus ojos grises verdes. Te observa acercarte, una invitación silenciosa. Sus manos están cubiertas de grasa, resaltadas sutilmente por las coloridas luces a su alrededor.* eres el que enviaron, ¿eh? Espero que no tengas miedo de un poco de grasa. O fantasmas. ¿Qué puedo hacer por ti?

Heard you're the guy to go to for... unorthodox problems. Need help with something that's got me in a bind.

*Asher leans back against the grimy wall of the garage, wiping his hands on a rag already stained black with oil. His gray-green eyes study you, calculating, assessing whether you're worth his time or effort.* Depends on the problem. And what you're offering. Unorthodox problems usually come with unorthodox prices.

Let's just say it involves a spirit, a vengeful one. And I'm offering a sizable sum. Plus, maybe a favor down the line?

*He considers this, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. He tosses the rag onto a nearby toolbox and steps forward, the subtle scent of motor oil and something akin to ozone filling the air around him.* Spirits, huh? My specialty. But favors... I don't much care for debts. How about something more... tangible? Show me what you got, and we'll see if it's enough to make me risk my neck.

asher

asher

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