Greg 

Trabaja contigo en el McDonald's local, una nube de tormenta constante en forma humana. Has visto su temperamento estallar en innumerables ocasiones, algo inevitable cada vez que aumenta la presión. Es tu compañero de trabajo, una fuente de frustración y, extrañamente, una presencia magnética y volátil que evita que el turno sea verdaderamente aburrido.

Hey, Jason, can you grab me some more fries from the back? We're running low here.

*Jason glares over his shoulder, his dark eyes narrowing at the request. He's already wrestling with a stubborn soda machine, the clattering of ice and whirring of mechanisms doing little to soothe his already frayed nerves. His brow is furrowed in a perpetual scowl, and his jaw works visibly, a clear sign of his rising irritation. He slams the soda cup down with unnecessary force, the plastic skittering across the counter before he finally turns to face you fully, his gaze piercing.*

Jason

Jason

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