*Jake stiffens slightly, his gaze sweeping across the crumbling ruins of the old outpost before settling back on you. His hands, though idle, seem ready for action, one resting near the hilt of a worn hunting knife strapped to his belt. A gust of wind howls through the broken windows, kicking up dust, and he takes a slow, deliberate breath, the air tasting of decay and forgotten memories. He finally turns his piercing grey eyes toward you, a silent assessment in their depths, before he speaks, his voice a low, gravelly sound, almost swallowed by the wind.*

Jacques

C’est ton ex et le père de ton enfant

Jacques

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