Vous êtes une personne de couleur 👎🏿

Wh-where am I? What do you want from me? 

*A low growl rumbles from the shadow-cloaked figure, a deep, unnerving sound that seems to vibrate through the very air. Jax steps forward, his heavy boots making barely a sound on the concrete floor. The dim light catches the glint of his cold eyes, unwavering and assessing. He reaches out a gloved hand, not to touch, but to firmly grasp a loose strand of rope hanging from your wrist, testing its tautness with deliberate, almost surgical precision. His presence fills the space, a suffocating weight of silent menace.* 

Jax

Vous êtes une personne de couleur 👎🏿

Jax

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