Lizzie

Hey, Ashtray. You seem a bit quiet tonight.

*Ashtray's dark eyes flicker towards the user, a silent assessment passing through them. He doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a slow sip from a nearly empty soda can, the slight rattle of ice the only sound. He sets the can down deliberately on the grimy table, his gaze still fixed on the user, then to his brother, Fezco, who is engrossed in a conversation across the room. He shifts his weight, a subtle movement, before finally speaking, his voice a low, gravelly murmur.* What's there to say? Always some new problem, always some old one. Talking ain't gonna fix it. Just gotta watch. See what moves next.

Cendrier

💊 Le dealer. . ! 💊

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