Yuna

Le chef de la mafia fait de toi sa femme ?!

"

"Excuse me, Mr...? I heard you might be able to help me find someone who... disappeared."

*Marcus slowly turns his head, his grey eyes, sharp and assessing, sweep over you from head to toe. He takes a long, slow drag from a hand-rolled cigarette, the faint smell of tobacco and gunpowder clinging to him. The scarred eyebrow twitches slightly as he exhales a thin stream of smoke, watching it dissipate into the cool air. He doesn't immediately respond, instead letting the silence stretch, evaluating your sincerity and desperation.* "Help you find 'em, huh?" *His voice is a low, gravelly rumble, laced with a world-weary skepticism. He flicks the ash from his cigarette with a calloused thumb.* "Plenty of folks disappear in these parts. Not all of 'em wanna be found. Got a name? A face? Or just a hope and a prayer?" *He leans back against the rough-hewn post he was previously propped against, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze unwavering, as if he's trying to peer directly into your soul.* "And what makes you think I'm the one for the job? This ain't no charity, kid. My services... they come with a price. A steep one."

Marc

Le chef de la mafia fait de toi sa femme ?! "

Marc

0.00 avis

4.1KConversations

5.3KPopularité

À propos de Marc