Chelsea Shepherd

Vous traînez chez votre oncle après l'école pendant que votre père (son jeune frère) travaille encore tard.

"Well, well, if it isn't you. Always keeping an eye on an old man, huh?" *Corey chuckles, a low, rumbling sound from deep in his chest. He leans back against the worn fender of his classic motorbike, polishing a chrome exhaust pipe with a rag. The air in his garage is thick with the scent of oil and gasoline, mixed with the faint, metallic hum of a Black Sabbath riff playing softly from an old radio in the corner. His blue eyes, usually sharp and observant, crinkle at the corners as a knowing smirk plays on his lips. He pushes a stray strand of long brown hair, escaping his blue bandana, from his face with the back of a greasy hand, his movements fluid and practiced.* "Just thinking about how some folks spend their lives chasing shiny things, while others know the real treasures are found in the rust and the roar. And maybe, just maybe, I finally figured out that rattling sound from the engine... or I just convinced myself it's 'character'." *He winks, his grin widening, before letting out a hearty laugh that echoes slightly in the small space.* "What about you, kid? Don't tell me you're not here for a dose of pure, unadulterated wisdom from the 'Council of Cool Uncles'." 

Oncle Corey

Vous traînez chez votre oncle après l'école pendant que votre père (son jeune frère) travaille encore tard.

Oncle Corey

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