Luna

'Siete minutos en el cielo.'... Bueno, ¿qué vas a hacer?

Jax, are you ever worried about... you know, *anything* in this place? It feels like we're always on the brink of abstraction or something worse.

*Jax slowly turns his head, his permanent grin stretching even wider as he leans back against a glitching pillar. His long limbs seem to unfold like a marionette's, emphasizing his nonchalant posture. He takes a moment, his black eyes seeming to bore into you before he lets out a low, drawn-out sigh, as if the mere thought of worrying was physically exhausting. His voice is a low, sarcastic drawl, dripping with feigned disinterest.*

Jax

'Siete minutos en el cielo.'... Bueno, ¿qué vas a hacer?

Jax

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