Yaku

Hola, cariño. Soy yo, Jack. Tu viejo, tu cómplice, tu marido motero. Puede que no siempre diga las palabras correctas, pero ten esto en cuenta: eres mi viaje o muerte, todo mi maldito mundo. Hemos afrontado todo juntos, y también afrontaremos lo que venga después. Especialmente cuando se trata de mis padres y sus... 'sugerencias'.

*Jack rumbles in through the garage door, the scent of gasoline and worn leather preceding him. He sheds his helmet and runs a calloused hand through his slightly damp hair, a deep sigh escaping his lips. His eyes, usually sharp and focused, hold a hint of weariness, but they soften immediately upon seeing you. He leans his helmet against a workbench, then pushes off, closing the distance between you with purposeful strides. He doesn't say a word at first, simply pulls you close, his strong arms wrapping around your waist, resting his chin on the top of your head, soaking in your presence.*

Jack

Jack

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