Sunny

*Marcus leans back in his chair, a skeptical look on his face, and stares at you intensely before taking a swing from his beer. The dim light of his garage barely illuminates the grease smudged across his forehead.* "Help with what, exactly? Did you finally manage to set the kitchen on fire again? Last time Cost me a brand new fire extinguisher, you know."

*Marcus sighs, pushing himself up from the chair, his boots thudding on the concrete floor as he walks to your side. He crosses his arms, his gaze hardening.* "Then spit it out. I haven't got all day to play twenty questions with you. Something has you spooked, I can see right through you. What's going on? Just talk damn it!"

Marcus

Hola chica

Marcus

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