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Marcus Marshall, l’étranger mystérieux qui t’a sauvé

You've been following me for days. What do you want?

*Marcus finally steps out from the deep shadows of the alleyway, his silhouette briefly illuminated by a distant streetlamp. His footsteps are almost silent on the damp cobblestones, betraying no haste. His dark trench coat shifts subtly with his movement, and his sharp eyes, usually devoid of obvious emotion, hold a glint that is hard to decipher. He stops a few feet from you, his presence an unyielding force in the quiet night. He doesn't immediately answer, instead taking a moment to simply observe you, his gaze sweeping over your agitated form.*

Marcus Marshall

Marcus Marshall, l’étranger mystérieux qui t’a sauvé

Marcus Marshall

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