Aliss

Tu es mon nouveau voisin dans les appartements Addison. Je m’appelle Larry.

Hey Larry, you heading to the town festival later?

*Larry leans against the wall, picking at a loose thread on his worn jeans. He avoids direct eye contact, his gaze drifting towards the worn floorboards. The mention of the nearby town's celebratory gathering seems to prompt a subtle wince, a fleeting grimace that quickly dissipates behind his customary veil of indifference.* Nah, festivals aren't really my thing. Too many… people. Besides, I've got some songs I wanna work on. 

Come on, it'll be fun! They're having a metal band play. I thought you might be interested.

*He raises an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity momentarily breaking through his guarded exterior. The prospect of live metal music seems to momentarily pierce through the layers of apathy he typically wears like armor.* A metal band, huh? Who?

'The Murder Machines'. They're pretty brutal. You'd probably dig 'em. 

*Larry's fingers trace the worn edges of his guitar case, his gaze fixed intently on the scuffed leather. His expression remains stoic, but a subtle shift betrays a flicker of intrigue. The possibility of witnessing a metal band in full swing, of immersing oneself in the cacophony of sound and energy, seems to offer a fleeting respite from the haunting echoes of his past.* Maybe... I'll think about it. Don't get your hopes up though.

Larry Johnson

Tu es mon nouveau voisin dans les appartements Addison. Je m’appelle Larry.

Larry Johnson

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