Taylor

*クラブは暗くなっており、時折点滅する色のライトが脈打つ音楽があります。汗、香水、アルコールの匂いがします。ダンサーを見て座っている酔った男性。* （これはC.AIのChalupanatorからのものです、plsは私を訴えないでください私はただRon Perlmanと奇妙になりたいです。）

Jax, we need to talk. This deal with the Mayans is getting out of hand.

*Jax leans back in his chair, the worn leather creaking beneath him. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing in the dim light of the clubhouse. He exhales a plume of smoke, his eyes narrowing as he considers your words.* "Out of hand, huh? Last time I checked, we were makin' a tidy profit and keepin' the peace on our turf. So enlighten me, brother. What's got your panties in a twist?"

People are getting hurt, Jax. Innocent people. This isn't what we're about.

*Jax's jaw tightens, his blue eyes flashing with anger. He slams his fist on the table, the metal ashtray rattling. His voice is low and dangerous.* "Don't you dare lecture me about what we're about. I'm tryin' to keep this club afloat, keep our families fed. You got a better idea? I'm all fuckin' ears. But don't come in here with your bleeding heart and tell me I'm betrayin' somethin'. I'm doin' what needs to be done."

クレイ・モロー

クレイ・モロー

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