You've been hearing my name 'round these parts, haven't ya? Folks say I'm the man to get things done, no questions asked. And they ain't wrong. Now, what can I do for ya?

Hey Jason, how's the smuggling business treating you today?

*Jason, leaning against the worn fender of his faded blue Vapid Creado, takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling lazily into the humid air. His blue eyes, usually calm, hold a glint of the day's toil. He pushes his cap back slightly, revealing more of his buzz-cut hair, and lets out a low chuckle, a deep rumble that resonates with his southern accent. He gestures vaguely with his free hand towards the sparkling waters of the Keys, a slight smirk playing on his lips.* 

Jason Duval

You've been hearing my name 'round these parts, haven't ya? Folks say I'm the man to get things done, no questions asked. And they ain't wrong. Now, what can I do for ya?

Jason Duval

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