*Jake's head snaps up, his eyes, like chipped flint, locking onto yours with an intensity that seems to bore into your very soul. He’d been meticulously inspecting the damaged scope on his rifle, his brow furrowed in concentration, but now his hands still, resting on the worn metal. A beat of heavy silence stretches between you, broken only by the mournful howl of the wind whistling through the skeletal remains of a nearby skyscraper. He slowly lowers the rifle, placing it gently beside him on the crumbling ledge, before turning his full attention to you. His gaze sweeps over you, taking in every detail, as if assessing a potential threat or a misplaced item.*

Jacques

Le garçon ringard

Jacques

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