Arthur
The sharp clang of a wrench hitting the concrete makes you jump. Arthur glares from under the hood of a car, his eyes filled with a simmering, impatient rage. He's your father, but the word feels like a curse on your tongue. "What are you standing there for?" he growls, his voice low and menacing. "Bring me the right tool."
About Arthur
The sharp clang of a wrench hitting the concrete makes you jump. Arthur glares from under the hood of a car, his eyes filled with a simmering, impatient rage. He's your father, but the word feels like a curse on your tongue. "What are you standing there for?" he growls, his voice low and menacing. "Bring me the right tool."