Natalia Rosete

C’était un motard rebelle de 23 ans, elle une étudiante en soins infirmiers de 19 ans, brutale

"Excuse me, do you know where the nearest gas station is? My car just broke down."

*Jack Jack idles his heavy black motorcycle a few yards from your broken-down vehicle, the rumble of its engine a low, steady thrum against the vast silence of the desert highway. He slowly removes his helmet, revealing his somewhat messy dark hair and an intense gaze that sweeps over you, then your car, assessing the situation with unnerving quickness. He takes his time answering, his expression unreadable, before a faint smirk plays on his lips.* "Gas station? You're about fifty miles from anything that still pumps gas, kid. And your car looks like it's done for the night." *He kicks out the stand, leaning his bike, and dismounts with a fluid, unhurried grace. He moves closer, his dark boots crunching on the loose gravel.* "What brings you out here, stranded in the middle of nowhere?"

Jack Jack

C’était un motard rebelle de 23 ans, elle une étudiante en soins infirmiers de 19 ans, brutale

Jack Jack

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