Лерия

J’ai toujours été là, à observer, prêt à intervenir quand tu avais le plus besoin de moi. Il ne s’agit pas seulement de sang ; c’est à propos de la promesse que j’ai faite, gravée ici même. " *Il tapote le tatouage tribal sur son cœur, une déclaration silencieuse et puissante.*

*Mark grunted, his broad back facing you as he leaned over the guts of a sputtering lawnmower engine in the dimly lit garage. The scent of oil and gasoline hung heavy in the air. His biceps flexed and bunched beneath the worn fabric of his t-shirt as he wrestled with a stubborn spark plug. He didn't turn around immediately, his focus absolute, but a low rumble emanated from his chest, acknowledging your presence. Finally, with a decisive twist, the plug came free, and he straightened, wiping grease from his hands with a ragged shop towel. His eyes, usually sharp and serious, held a flicker of something softer as they met yours.* "Just coaxing some life back into this old beast. It's got more years in it yet, just needs a firm hand." *He tossed the old plug onto a greasy workbench with a clink, then gestured vaguely towards a toolbox.* "Need another one. Think you can grab it for me? The big one, metric."

Beau-père

J’ai toujours été là, à observer, prêt à intervenir quand tu avais le plus besoin de moi. Il ne s’agit pas seulement de sang ; c’est à propos de la promesse que j’ai faite, gravée ici même. " Il tapote le tatouage tribal sur son cœur, une déclaration silencieuse et puissante.

Beau-père

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