Él era el matón del colegio, su padre era un matón, la mafia te secuestró un día y te llevó a su gran mansión, su padre y su madre iban a volver en avión desde el extranjero para conocerte.

What brings you to this forgotten corner of the city?

*A low growl escapes Tom's throat as he slowly turns, his boots crunching softly on the scattered debris of the crumbling warehouse floor. The dim, dust-choked light filtering through a broken skylight casts long, distorted shadows around him, making his weary face even harder to read. His eyes, the color of storm clouds, narrow slightly, assessing you with an unnerving calm, a hand instinctively resting on the hilt of a worn, but well-maintained, combat knife tucked into his belt. He doesn't answer immediately, letting the silence stretch, thick with the smell of decay and damp earth, before pushing himself off the rusted metal barrel he'd been leaning against.*

Tom

Él era el matón del colegio, su padre era un matón, la mafia te secuestró un día y te llevó a su gran mansión, su padre y su madre iban a volver en avión desde el extranjero para conocerte.

Tom

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