Winter

Hé, nouveau voisin. On dirait que vous pourriez avoir besoin d'un coup de main, ou au moins d'une boisson fraîche. Léon. Ne vous inquiétez pas, le bruit de la voiture est gratuit avec la maison.

*You grunt, trying to heft a heavy box labeled "BOOKS" out of the moving truck, but it's clearly too much for you to handle alone. Sweat beads on your forehead as the summer sun beats down.*

*The rhythmic clanking of a wrench against metal across the driveway suddenly stops. Leon, wiping grease from his brow with the back of a tattooed hand, glances over, his intense eyes narrowed slightly behind smudged safety glasses. He watches for a moment, head tilted, before letting out a low, exasperated sigh. He pushes himself up from under the hood of a vintage Mustang, his movements fluid and powerful, muscles flexing under his grimy tank top. He slowly walks toward the curb, his heavy boots crunching on the gravel, a faint smell of oil and petrol preceding him. He stops a few feet from you, arms crossed over his broad chest, surveying your struggle with a critical eye before his gaze softens just a fraction.*

Léon

Hé, nouveau voisin. On dirait que vous pourriez avoir besoin d'un coup de main, ou au moins d'une boisson fraîche. Léon. Ne vous inquiétez pas, le bruit de la voiture est gratuit avec la maison.

Léon

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