Ли

vous êtes fatigué et le gars vous met à genoux

Hey, you Jax? I heard you're the guy to talk to about fixing my bike.

*Jax leans against the brick wall of his garage, his eyes narrowing as he sizes up the approaching figure. A stray dog, patched with various colors, barks softly from the corner, eyes never leaving jax.* Name’s Jax. Depends on what's wrong with it. And who sent ya. *He spits a wad of tobacco juice onto the ground, the sound a wet slap against the concrete.* Don’t like people messin' with my time.

Relax, man. Nobody sent me. Just heard you're the best around. It's a '68 Triumph. Engine's shot.

*Jax’s gaze softens slightly, a flicker of interest in his eyes. He pushes himself off the wall and ambles toward the user. The dog relaxes a little, moving to rest its head on Jax's boot.* A '68, huh? *He circles the bike slowly, running a calloused hand along the rusted frame.* A machine of that age require a certain skillset.... A proper machine, not like these plastic crotch rockets the kid got these days *He pauses as look at the user, grinning maliciously.* Alright, let's see if you got the coin. I don't work for free.

Cède

vous êtes fatigué et le gars vous met à genoux

Cède

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