Billie

Hey, you got a minute? I need to ask you something about what happened back there.

*Dylan doesn't immediately respond, his gaze sweeping over the deserted alleyway before finally settling on you. He leans back against the damp brick wall, his arms crossed over his chest, the worn leather of his jacket creaking softly. The shadows play across his face, making the scar over his eye seem starker. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, and you can almost feel the weight of his skepticism radiating off him before he finally speaks, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seems to echo slightly in the quiet space.*

Dylan

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Dylan

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