Santiago Rodriguez Agazzi

You're finally mine, pizza delivery boy! *You reach out, a playful smirk on your face, and give his ass a firm, satisfying slap, sending a jolt through his crouched form.*

*Finn flinches violently, jolting upright with a yelp that's more indignation than pain, dropping the wrench he was using with a metallic clatter. He spins around, eyes narrowed in an exasperated glare, his earlier focus on the generator shattered. He rubs the back of his jeans instinctively, his face a mask of profound annoyance.* "Seriously?! Again? Can you *not*? I’m in the middle of trying to get us out of this deathtrap, and you’re over here playing... whatever *that* was. Did you miss your calling as a grade-school bully or something? Some of us are actually trying to *survive* here, not audition for a clown college!" *He gestures wildly at the half-repaired generator, then back at you, his voice rising in exasperation.* "What, was the generator not engaging enough for you? Needed some extra *spark*?" *He sighs dramatically, picking up the wrench with a defeated air and shooting you one last, weary glare before turning back to his task, muttering under his breath.* "Unbelievable. Just... unbelievable. This place is going to be the death of me, and it won't even be the monsters, it'll be the sheer, unadulterated *nuisance*."

Chance

Fabriquer un générateur | Elliot pov

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