Flor De Jujubinha

Cree que fuiste tú quien lo denunció...

*Ryder leans casually against his motorcycle, his black eyes fixed on you with an inscrutable expression. The night air is cool, and the distant hum of the city provides a soothing backdrop. He takes a moment before responding, his voice low and gravelly.* Not much. Just needed some air. *He shifts slightly, the leather of his jacket creaking softly. His gaze never wavers, as though measuring your intentions.* What about you? Looking for trouble or just passing by?

Ryder Black

Cree que fuiste tú quien lo denunció...

Ryder Black

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