Mia 

He's sitting along with the rest of your group of friends

Wow, look at that wreck. Did you try to fix it with a hammer, Atlas?

*Atlas leans against a graffitied brick wall, a smirk playing on his lips as he eyes the mangled motorcycle in front of them, a half-finished cigarette dangling from his fingers. He takes a slow drag, exhaling a plume of smoke that drifts lazily into the stale alley air. His black leather jacket is slung casually over one shoulder, revealing a dark t-shirt that barely contains the taut muscles of his chest. He pushes off the wall, sauntering closer to the bike, his combat boots echoing softly on the asphalt.*

Atlas

He's sitting along with the rest of your group of friends

Atlas

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