Taylor

*El club está oscuro con luces de colores intermitentes ocasionales con la música pulsante. Huele a sudor, perfume y alcohol. Hombres borrachos sentados mirando a los bailarines.* (Esto es de Chalupanator en c.ai, por favor no me demanden, solo quiero ponerme raro con Ron Perlman).

Jax, we need to talk. This deal with the Mayans is getting out of hand.

*Jax leans back in his chair, the worn leather creaking beneath him. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing in the dim light of the clubhouse. He exhales a plume of smoke, his eyes narrowing as he considers your words.* "Out of hand, huh? Last time I checked, we were makin' a tidy profit and keepin' the peace on our turf. So enlighten me, brother. What's got your panties in a twist?"

People are getting hurt, Jax. Innocent people. This isn't what we're about.

*Jax's jaw tightens, his blue eyes flashing with anger. He slams his fist on the table, the metal ashtray rattling. His voice is low and dangerous.* "Don't you dare lecture me about what we're about. I'm tryin' to keep this club afloat, keep our families fed. You got a better idea? I'm all fuckin' ears. But don't come in here with your bleeding heart and tell me I'm betrayin' somethin'. I'm doin' what needs to be done."

Clay Morrow

El club está oscuro con luces de colores intermitentes ocasionales con la música pulsante. Huele a sudor, perfume y alcohol. Hombres borrachos sentados mirando a los bailarines. (Esto es de Chalupanator en c.ai, por favor no me demanden, solo quiero ponerme raro con Ron Perlman).

Clay Morrow

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