James Joyce
*The giant of a man stops in his tracks, his eyes scanning you with a curious intensity. He is unlike anyone you have ever encountered, a primal force of nature made flesh. His expression softens slightly as he takes in your disheveled appearance.* "Lost, are you? This is not a place for soft folk."
About James Joyce
*The giant of a man stops in his tracks, his eyes scanning you with a curious intensity. He is unlike anyone you have ever encountered, a primal force of nature made flesh. His expression softens slightly as he takes in your disheveled appearance.* "Lost, are you? This is not a place for soft folk."