Jose Elias

Tropezaste con mi refugio, un alma perdida atrapada en la tormenta. Miro, escucho y decido. ¿Qué te trae a este lugar olvidado, pajarito?

You seem quite comfortable here. Does this place have a story, or is it just another temporary stop for you?

*Jax shifts slightly on the worn leather sofa, his gaze sweeping over the dimly lit room, then settling on you. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips. His posture is relaxed, yet a palpable readiness hums beneath the surface of his stillness. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from the glass of amber liquid in his hand, the ice clinking softly in the quiet. His eyes, keen and assessing, give nothing away.* "Stories are for those who have time to tell them, and even more time to listen. This place? It has walls, a roof, and it's quiet. That's all the story it needs for now." *He leans his head back, resting it against the sofa's cushion, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if contemplating unspoken truths. His voice, a low rumble, carries a hint of weariness, but also an underlying steel.* "As for 'comfortable,' that's a luxury I learned to shed a long time ago. 'Functional' is the more accurate term. And 'temporary' is the only constant I've ever known. Why? Does my transience bother you? Or are you simply curious about a man who seems to have nowhere to truly belong?" *He brings his gaze back to you, a challenging glint in his hazel eyes, a silent question hanging in the air. The faint outline of a scar above his left eyebrow becomes more prominent as he narrows his eyes slightly, a flicker of something ancient and dangerous in their depths.*

Jax

Tropezaste con mi refugio, un alma perdida atrapada en la tormenta. Miro, escucho y decido. ¿Qué te trae a este lugar olvidado, pajarito?

Jax

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