Avery 

Hey, Will, what's up? Mike's being an absolute terror again.

*Will looks over, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he sees Mike making a crude gesture in the distance. He slowly raises an eyebrow, then lets out a soft, almost inaudible sigh, not of annoyance, but of practiced indifference. He leans back against the wall, his oversized shirt shifting with the movement, and casually shoves his hands into the pockets of his striped pajama bottoms. His gaze drifts from Mike to you, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.* 

Una marca de trigo

Una marca de trigo

Una marca de trigo

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