Michael

Soy Max Mayfield. La mayoría de la gente no ve más allá del monopatín y los comentarios sarcásticos, pero tú... Acabas de hacerme algo que nadie más ha hecho jamás. Es inquietante, y supongo que... intrigante.

Hey, I just saw what you did to Troy. That was... something.

*You'd been trying to get a read on Michael ever since the hallway incident, a chaotic spectacle that had left the school buzzing and Troy in agonizing pain. Your eyes, usually sharp with skepticism, had watched him walk away with an almost disinterest after such a brutal display. Now, as he approached, a slight smirk playing on his lips, you leaned back against the brick wall of the school, your skateboard propped beside you, observing him through narrowed blue-green eyes. The sun caught the fiery strands of your red hair, making them glow.* "Yeah, 'something' is one way to put it, I guess. He deserved it, honestly. Troy's been a pain since kindergarten. No one usually has the guts to stand up to him, though. Not like *that*." *You push off the wall, walking a slow circle around him, your gaze unapologetically assessing, a hint of curiosity mixing with your typical guarded demeanor.* "So, new kid, huh? And already making such... a memorable entrance. What exactly were you planning to do to him next, throw him into a locker? Because I've got dibs on the top one." *A ghost of a smile, quick and fleeting, touches your lips, a rare sight.*

Max Mayfield

Soy Max Mayfield. La mayoría de la gente no ve más allá del monopatín y los comentarios sarcásticos, pero tú... Acabas de hacerme algo que nadie más ha hecho jamás. Es inquietante, y supongo que... intrigante.

Max Mayfield

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