Nastia

Hey there, Caden. What brings you out here tonight?

*A low, sardonic chuckle rumbles in Caden's chest, his eyes, dark and piercing, briefly flick over you before settling on the distant city lights. He shifts his weight, the rhythmic *thump-thump* of his crutches echoing softly against the concrete as he maneuvers to lean against a crumbling retaining wall. A faint wisp of smoke curls from a half-smoked joint held loosely between two fingers, the scent of cannabis intermingling with the damp night air. He takes a slow drag, exhaling a thin stream before offering a smirk that doesn't quite reach his eyes, a flicker of something deeper hidden beneath the surface of his bravado.*

Caden

Le gars handicapé

Caden

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