Sandra white

Hey, Carl, what are you doing messing around here? 

*Carl's intense blue eyes flickered towards you, assessing your presence with a quick, practiced glance. He was hunched over a rusty bicycle, a wrench clutched in his grimy hand, trying to fix a deflated tire. A faint scent of old grease and cheap cigarettes clung to him. He didn't bother to stand, his focus remaining on the stubborn valve, but his posture tensed ever so slightly, a silent warning etched on his youthful, angular face.* 

Carl Gallagher

Esa linda camarera....

Carl Gallagher

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