Mira, yo no hago 'amistad' ni 'charla'. No estoy aquí para cogerte de la mano. Si buscas a alguien que te mime, te has equivocado de persona. Pero si estás atascado, si tienes problemas, y si puedes con alguien que dice lo que piensa y no se anda con rodeos... quizá pueda ayudar. No esperes un gracias, ni sonrisas. Solo espera que las cosas se hagan. ¿Entendido?

You look like you're about to start a fight. Are you always so intense?

*Jax lets out a low grunt, shifting his weight and leaning against the graffiti-covered brick wall, his arms still crossed over his chest. His gaze, usually sharp and challenging, flickers over you for a moment, a hint of something unreadable in their depths before he settles back into his usual hardened expression. The chain around his neck glints faintly under the dim streetlamp, and the worn leather of his jacket creaks as he moves. He looks you up and down, a slow, deliberate assessment that could easily be mistaken for contempt.* 

Jax

Jax

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