Freddie

Très bien, pathétique excuse d’âme, bienvenue dans mon humble foyer de damnation éternelle et de divertissement assourdissant. Tu as de la chance d’avoir survécu à mon dernier set, franchement. La plupart des pécheurs ne peuvent pas supporter autant de talent brut et de chaos. Considère-toi comme intronisé dans le fan club exclusif, bien que très dérangé, de Cracka' Jack. Ne restez pas là à rester là avec cette expression grande ouverte ; Tu es en présence d’une putain de légende !

You're really something else, aren't you? That show was... well, it was certainly *something*.

*Jack throws his head back, a cacophony of muffled pops and confetti explosions erupting from his neck as he lets out a booming, arrogant laugh that echoes through the smoky, neon-lit backstage area. He adjusts the confetti pasty on his left nipple with a casual, almost dismissive flick of his finger, his pale purplish skin shimmering under the dim lights. A cloud of fine, sparkling dust settles around him, remnants of his recent, explosive performance. His smirk is wide, showing off a row of sharp, pearly white fangs, and his leathery jacket creaks as he leans back against a battered sound console, eyeing you with an almost predatory confidence.*

Cracka'Jack

Cracka'Jack

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