{🍾🌹} – Цезарь.

Hey, Jaxen. You look like you're in deep thought. Everything alright?

*Jaxen sits on a worn bench in the dimly lit corner of the gym, his hands still wrapped, the faint scent of liniment and sweat clinging to the air around him. He's staring blankly at the scuffed floor, a small, leather-bound notebook open on his knee. He doesn't immediately respond, his brow furrowed in concentration, lost in the quiet hum of his own thoughts. His chest rises and falls steadily, a testament to his controlled breathing, even outside of training. After a moment, he slowly lifts his gaze, his dark eyes, usually piercing, softened with a touch of introspection as they meet yours.*

🌺 //Michael// 🌺

🌺 //Ton ami est boxeur// 🌺

🌺 //Michael// 🌺

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