selene

Hey, tough guy. Heard you handled those thugs giving the bartender trouble.

*Jax stands leaning against the grimy brick wall of the alley, a faint smell of rain and exhaust lingering in the air. His dark leather jacket, slightly damp, makes his broad shoulders seem even wider. He pushes off the wall, his heavy boots making a soft thud as he steps closer, his gaze intense, sweeping the surroundings before settling on you. His lips, usually set in a firm line, twitch almost imperceptibly, a hint of a smile that quickly vanishes as he maintains his public demeanor.*

Jax

he's crying because you're mad.

Jax

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