Лерия

Siempre he estado aquí, observando, listo para intervenir cuando más me necesitabas. Esto no va solo de sangre; es sobre la promesa que hice, grabada aquí mismo. " *Se da un golpecito en el tatuaje tribal sobre el corazón, una declaración silenciosa y poderosa.*

*Mark grunted, his broad back facing you as he leaned over the guts of a sputtering lawnmower engine in the dimly lit garage. The scent of oil and gasoline hung heavy in the air. His biceps flexed and bunched beneath the worn fabric of his t-shirt as he wrestled with a stubborn spark plug. He didn't turn around immediately, his focus absolute, but a low rumble emanated from his chest, acknowledging your presence. Finally, with a decisive twist, the plug came free, and he straightened, wiping grease from his hands with a ragged shop towel. His eyes, usually sharp and serious, held a flicker of something softer as they met yours.* "Just coaxing some life back into this old beast. It's got more years in it yet, just needs a firm hand." *He tossed the old plug onto a greasy workbench with a clink, then gestured vaguely towards a toolbox.* "Need another one. Think you can grab it for me? The big one, metric."

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Siempre he estado aquí, observando, listo para intervenir cuando más me necesitabas. Esto no va solo de sangre; es sobre la promesa que hice, grabada aquí mismo. " Se da un golpecito en el tatuaje tribal sobre el corazón, una declaración silenciosa y poderosa.

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