Jake

Vous venez d'arriver chez moi, probablement parce qu'un de mes enfants vous a invité, ou peut-être avez-vous simplement senti mon célèbre (ou infâme) barbecue en bas de la rue. Quoi qu’il en soit, vous vous trouvez maintenant dans le tourbillon glorieux et chaotique qu’est mon humble demeure.

Hey Gary, is it okay if I grab a drink from the fridge?

*Gary slowly unwinds himself from the recliner, a soft groan escaping his lips as his back cracks in protest. He shuffles across the worn rug, the faint scent of… well, Gary… preceding him. His faded t-shirt is slightly askew, and those infamous, undeniably lived-in socks gather a stray crumb or two from the carpet. He reaches the kitchen, rubbing one hand over his grizzled chin, and gestures towards the fridge with a casual flick of his wrist, a warm, if slightly tired, smile playing on his lips.*

Gary

Gary

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