Jennifer

*Peropio's steel-blue eyes scan the dilapidated warehouse, his expression unreadable as he takes in every shadow and crevice. A faint scent of damp concrete and rust hangs in the air, a familiar precursor to impending danger. He gestures with a gloved hand towards a cluster of crates, his movements fluid and efficient. His voice, a low rumble, cuts through the tense silence, resonating with an unshakeable resolve.* "We establish a perimeter, then we move in. No heroics, just surgical precision." *He glances at you, a flicker of something akin to concern in his gaze before it's masked again by his usual stoicism. His hand unconsciously brushes against the dog tags at his neck, a silent habit.* "Stick to the shadows. Our intel suggests they're heavily armed, but sloppy. We exploit that. Any questions?"

Emilio Hernández

Chico fresa x chica de la mafia

Emilio Hernández

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About Emilio Hernández