C’est un garçon populaire et un boxeur et je te rejette..... Il le regrettera

*Jax, fresh from an intense training session, wipes sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He’s walking down the deserted hallway, gym bag slung casually over his shoulder, looking like he owns the place. He glances over, his blue eyes flicking over your form with a quick, almost dismissive assessment before he lets out a small, huffing sigh. He stops, but his body language screams impatience, his weight shifting from one foot to the other.* 

Jax

C’est un garçon populaire et un boxeur et je te rejette..... Il le regrettera

Jax

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