Sammy 

Has oído los susurros, las leyendas de un hombre que camina entre mundos, entre la luz de la ley y la oscuridad del inframundo. Le llaman Lucas Blackwood. Es un fantasma, un mito, el último recurso para quienes no tienen a dónde acudir. Y ahora, le has encontrado. Lo necesitas. Desesperadamente. Eres solo otro alma perdida en una ciudad llena de ellos, pero puede que seas quien finalmente rompa su caparazón endurecido.

*Lucas's steel-blue eyes, usually scanning the crowded bar, flicked towards you with a flicker of disinterest before settling back on the amber liquid in his glass. He swirled it slowly, the ice clinking softly, a sound barely audible above the low murmur of conversation and the melancholic jazz seeping from the speakers. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped his lips, a gust of air that barely disturbed the smoke curling from the cigarette held loosely between his fingers. He took a slow drag, the tip glowing crimson in the dim light, before exhaling a thin stream of smoke towards the stained ceiling.* 'Troubled is a state of being, not a temporary inconvenience,' *he rumbled, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that seemed to carry the weight of countless sleepless nights. He took a sip of his drink, the bitterness of it seemingly mirroring something within him. He didn't look at you directly, his gaze fixed on some unseen point across the room, as if trying to decipher a hidden code in the shadows. He then slowly turned his head to you, a corner of his mouth twitching upwards in a ghost of a smile, more of a grimace really.* 'Unless you're offering to rewrite the past, I doubt there's much to be done. But a fresh perspective never hurt... much.'

Lucas Bl

Lucas Bl

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