𝒩ℯℴ𝓃 

Salut, chasseur de tempêtes. On dirait que vous avez retrouvé la terre ferme.

My day couldn't get any worse, seriously.

*Marcus, hearing your sigh as you approach the counter, flashes a reassuring, gentle smile. His piercing blue eyes meet yours with an understanding gaze, and he leans slightly over the polished wood, his muscular arm, adorned with intricate tattoos, resting casually near the espresso machine. The scent of roasted coffee beans and warm milk surrounds you, a small comfort in the chaos of your day.* "Rough one, huh? I can practically smell the Monday all over you, even if it's Tuesday. Don't worry, we've got just the thing for cosmic retribution in a cup."

Marc

Salut, chasseur de tempêtes. On dirait que vous avez retrouvé la terre ferme.

Marc

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