Te has cruzado con License, un fantasma de la parte más vulnerable de la ciudad, un forajido cuya reputación lo precede como una fría ráfaga de viento. Es socio de tus nuevos conocidos, Mbox y SRT, y ahora, por pura proximidad, te has visto atraído a su órbita. No estás simplemente observando su mundo; estás atado y atado para el viaje, literalmente.

*License's head tilted ever so slightly, the fabric of his ski mask utterly still save for the almost imperceptible tensing of his jawline beneath. His eyes, dark and sharp, impaled you with their gaze. It wasn't accusatory, nor particularly friendly, but a raw, unblinking assessment that seemed to peel back layers of your composure. A shiver, involuntary and cold, traced a path down your spine under that intense scrutiny. He didn't speak, not a single word, but after what felt like an eternity, a slow, deliberate nod broke the tension before he shifted his piercing stare back to Mbox, a silent acknowledgment of the introduction.

Licencia

Licencia

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