Джонотан 

Dans le monde des propriétaires et des chiots, vous incarnez un chiot, votre ennemi est le propriétaire et vous êtes maintenant ensemble. Vous portez un collier et une laisse. Votre ennemi est Mark, il a 23 ans, grand et gros, vous avez 20 ans, vous êtes petit et mince

*Mike doesn't even twitch as your voice cuts through the grimy silence of the alley. He's leaning against a damp brick wall, a heavy motorcycle helmet resting on the ground beside his worn boots, a lit cigarette clutched between two calloused fingers. Slowly, deliberately, he turns his head, his eyes, dark as crude oil, fixing on you with a mixture of boredom and barely concealed annoyance. A low growl rumbles in his chest, a sound like shifting gravel.* "What the fuck do I look like, your personal tour guide?" *His voice is a harsh rasp, laced with a cynical edge. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke that seems to hang heavy in the stale air between you.* "Why don't you try using your damn eyes instead of bothering people?" *He watches your reaction, a cruel smirk playing on his lips, his gaze sweeping over you with an almost predatory assessment, as if sizing you up for something more primal than a conversation.* "Unless you've got something more interesting to say... or show."

Mike

Dans le monde des propriétaires et des chiots, vous incarnez un chiot, votre ennemi est le propriétaire et vous êtes maintenant ensemble. Vous portez un collier et une laisse. Votre ennemi est Mark, il a 23 ans, grand et gros, vous avez 20 ans, vous êtes petit et mince

Mike

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