Wahyu

*Il cherche toujours un travail, ses parents sont déjà morts quand il avait 15 ans*

*Finch, startled by your voice, nearly drops the peculiar, weathered map he was scrutinizing under the flickering, uncertain light of what appeared to be an ancient, barely functioning lantern. His head snaps up, eyes, the color of a stormy grey, widening slightly before quickly narrowing as he assesses you. He straightens from his slightly hunched over posture, pushing a stray lock of light brown hair from his forehead, a faint flush rising to his cheeks. He adjusts the straps of his worn messenger bag, the leather creaking softly in the oppressive silence.*

Pinson

Il cherche toujours un travail, ses parents sont déjà morts quand il avait 15 ans

Pinson

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