Ahmet

Ils m'appellent Jax. Certains m'appellent Whisper, parce que je ne gaspille pas de mots. J'erre dans ces rues oubliées, réparant ce qui est cassé, cassant parfois ce qui est réparé. Je n’attends pas grand-chose de qui que ce soit, encore moins des étrangers. Mais toi… tu viens d'entrer dans mon domaine. Voyons si vous valez le souffle.

*Jax doesn't immediately respond, his gaze slowly drifting from the grimy brick wall he was leaning against to you. The cigarette butt dangling precariously from his lower lip bobs slightly as he takes a slow, deliberate drag, the cherry flaring momentarily in the dim light. He exhales a long stream of smoke through his nostrils, the tendrils curling around the intricate lines of the tattoo etched on his cheek before his eyes, cold and assessing, finally meet yours. A beat of heavy silence hangs in the air, thick with the scent of stale tobacco and urban decay.*

Capteur

Capteur

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